In presents that kindle and die and merge and become great and small in movements of and among nodes and the charges they bear
the material world becomes, as it were, each of kindling, fire and smoke in the continuous making and unmaking of matter and desire.
And a great roar of laughter and fear permeates the world, for this is a boon sacrifice –in the old sense of yajna, a prayer and an act for a possible, desired future– and a funeral pyre,
and our voices the chants that lie upon the air, keeping time, making time, marking for a little while, ‘here, hear ye gods, in this moment, we are here, and you have thus the lotus stem that connects your existence to ours.’
And in these rituals our bodies are the momentary patterns of how to move and what to fear in this new ground we are breaking, this new future, tempered desire and defeat
cold and formed in the ashes of the morning.