No gods preside
over our elysium
we keep it secret
except to lowly beasts
even midnight moths
burrowing under piles of raked leaves
we cater here to victims of a lie
or objectors to ambition
the cathedral canopy of pepper leaves
scattering the sun like a shattered lense of truth
through which the world evades focus
I stare at you
through a stand of bamboo
you are forever
in my elysium
there once was a path to the tree
but it lost its direction
confused by migrating shadows
let us await the night sky right here
as the cosmos applies its finishing touches.