While votive candles still burn

your eyes

lightning flashes from outside,

and there is too much

light,

too much to gather in, too much

to know;

words flow from west,

east, south,

but  it is north you long for;

Turn your head then toward the place

where the moon should be

if moons

behaved according to your

compass

and did not wander

through the night sky

lost and so alone.

Wait for the meridian then,

wait for direction.

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