The Song of Etimret
R.J. Dickins
In the Great Divide water broke free of rock,
And rock drowned, overcome by change.
Water floundered though, too fluid,
Lost its grip and fell back. Rock emerged with
Water at its feet, and the tide thereafter endured.
In an aeon, the craft of faces were untraced
As water rose up to rock and was repelled,
Only to reform and rewrite the present accord.
In spite the sky and its children were relinquished
By rock, to witness.
In the becoming accord, the vigil of night and day,
Of moon and sun, laying bare the ferocity of the
Rising and falling tide. The play was harmony
Between each and every elemental face in the
Rhythm and audience of time, and
With inflection there was the seed of memory,
Which grew to know the faces and their
Interlaced and growing ways, but water saw memory
As a fixated child of rock, and washed over it
With the tide, leaving hoary fragments.
Out of those shards of memory appeared Etimret,
Stretching alluringly over the Great Divide,
And at the behest of the sky there founded
The Isle of Puck’s Bottom, where songs are sung
To time’s untouchable beat.
Songs in just praise of water and rock, of the
Celestial bodies on the canvas of the sky.
Of Etimret the epitome, the living ecstasy of song,
With its countless faces weaving stories
Jettisoning the sacred flotsam of Etimret’s ways,
Where chaos and control commune and confound
In silent cries, giving point and view to the
Neverending twistings unfolding; what meanings
Have Gods to the flies?
it wants to kill us Sir!”
“What gives you that idea Smithers?”
“Sir its attacking us in morse code!”
(after Kurt Halbritter)
Etimret 