Seek after your dead

Seek after your dead
Who have dissipated in the view of the sun
Their lunatic dust drifted to the moon
Its light borrowed in a Promethean way
Souls drawn by a lesser gravitation addressing lesser forms
Once wed to the earth as the moon remains,
A priestly concubine
charged with holding the embalmment's spiritual effluents
Floating jettisons
Drifting and transfixed on a dusty, rolling, silent sphere
They are here, dry
On the back of this white Moth
Feeling the humming of the wings beneath them
A vibrational membrane between the energies of life and death,
The propulsion for an aimless hovering, feeling thin and confused
Caught in the receding memorial tide
Mulling over dull and fleeing recollections of the earth
Waiting for a wet ressurective proxy
Waiting for the moth to fly into the lighted pool
Waiting for the moon to crash into the ocean and be bathed

-Apes Blood