you appeared to me in a vision, you spoke to me
from the dream side of night, deep from shadows
only angels could penetrate. pitch night
so deep the moon cried out its plaintive tune,
stars drowned in oblivion too distant
but for heavenly beings to intercede.
you approached me in that vision, you said
I was to be the instrument of some
plan, divine or otherwise you would not
confess; in the vision you spoke with tongues
of fire and the smell of apple blossoms,
your breath was ripe fruit, succulent, fragrant—
you unwound the scroll of prophecy, signs
and symbols adorning, showed me my fate.
David M Pitchford
6 Oct 2011