The Great Orion
Part III - The Moonly Gospel

Oh Great Orion..
Art thou not
Thrice-Greatest
of all fools..
Who aimed
the arrow
of thy highest
longing..
at the pale
and Rosy Moon.

Artemis..
That, which
he loved
most..
The Hunt itself.
Embodied
in The Word
and in The Flesh.
Alas, it was
The Spirit
housed within her
that forever
claimed his heart.
The slaying spirit..
of the thirst and hunger
that accompanies
The Hunt.

Is not privation..
spirit of what
makes us pure?
It is The Spirit..
of the guarded
and unsure.
A budding flower..
prior to the moment
when it blooms.
A slow unraveling
of beauty..
which through
nourishment alone
matures.

Alas, must not thou
be The Ocean..
to hold space
for flowing
of polluted streams,
and still be clean?
Must not thou
be the silver lining
on a mirror..
to be the seer
of The One
whose being
solely lies..
in being seen?

Must not thou stray
from reasoned structure
of The Apollonian..
to be the bearer
of The Dionysian..
The Holy Spark?
To see, at last,
a glimmer of moonlight
within His eye..
Before upon us falls
Egyptian Darkness..
of The Moonless Night?

The bowstring tenses..
but it doesn’t snap.
The arrow fired
at The Rosy Moon..
eventually finds
its way right back.
To fall upon the scale
of Great Orion’s
loves and loathes..
To strike the heart
of him who shot it first..

Thus she spoke
before he met
The End:
“””
Thou art cured,
oh Great Orion,
for, in Death..
There is no hunger,
thirst, or longing left.
“””