The wine flows freely tonight.
All else is scraps;
They lie there untended and happy.
Nefertiti must have felt this
loosening of restraint.
She drank and prayed to the one.
There is power in the grape,
so why should we worry about
unkempt papyrus?
She died knowing the one
thing we abhor in our waking hours:
the unison of gods,
the Solidarity of drunken men
born to create order when
they come around.
Let's not rouse them.
1 comment:
I like this, Bill. The tension between chaos and order, between the orthodox and the unrestrained, and the decision to let them sleep.
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