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By Ruth Calder Murphy (Arciemme)

There’s crystal in the sky tonight,

sparkling to squeaking-point

and speaking bright truths

so dazzling they can’t be grasped.

The hierocratic skies,

infused with lies so true,

so absolute,

myths that make mockery of mere reality

and live in primal memories and the stuff of dreams.

The rebels at the gates of Heaven can’t compete

when they meet the real thing,

but give in and light candles to the Jovian lightning

and stamp their feet to the thunderous beat.

There’s crystal in the sky tonight

and I’m impaled on it,

dazzled by the brightness,

the promise of something more than this,

something more than fiery orbs that died in ancient times

and live only in my mind and in my sky,

clear as vinegared crystal in the void…

My soul swims shorewards,

beached on the cusp of black night and stars

bright enough to blind - bright enough to steal sight

and plunge me to another kind of night…

There’s crystal in the sky tonight.

dazzling crystal that, more than their material,

more than I can see,

are somehow, in their spiralling mystery,

their double helix history,

intertwined with me.

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