reflections through a small window
i sailed alongside a mountain in the sky,
great and dark,
its slopes sheer and reaching to impossible heights,
its peak an ominous, expansive plateau,
in its body, caves of storms,
bright, angry whips thrashing and warning.
i sailed past, and this pillar of vapor
gave my eyes to the sun,
resigning behind distant cover,
setting the fringes alight,
casting long shadows,
and then i saw the cliffs of its face.
and there, where the ruffled front slopes met the summit,
three faces carved of cloud,
leering downward, ahead, and upward,
casting eyeless gazes at the plains below, at the dying sun, and at heaven.
and these three screamed a pained, furious chorus in unison,
“fools! we see you without eyes! stand and be cleansed!”