e a prophet, said no one, ever. Be in pain, and either blind or mad because nothing pushed back from an equal and opposite direction? Beware: when each day your two cupped beggar palms try to gather light like water and catch nothing. Be afraid of the things that move within you. Belladonna night consumes you, thick with creatures—eyeless and dreaming. Be careful not to know before they cut out your tongue, curse your words to wander like flightless birds. Truth beckons, bewitching and slick. Do not believe. The future will call, like gold-warm fleece, dawning sun, like one candle in the yawning dark. Look away.
