I must not be afraid

I must not be afraid
of death and bane. She is
wearing so many rapiers
that play. I'm not afraid

of death—this bane governs
then saves my life. She is
a play that I'm not afraid
to hear. I meet a deity

that saves my life—she's
the master running mad
who hears another deity
dwell in its musings. I

am a master running mad
that has awakened. She
dwells in a musing that I
must not be afraid of.

The orange Sun is obscured by dense clouds

The orange Sun is obscured by dense clouds
bringing a sleep of death. What dreams may come
are foretold by the prophets who have sought
to entertain the time with thoughts of love.

For in that sleep of death what dreams my come
are scattered bits of rhyme. The poet seeks
to entertain the time with thoughts of love,
but is dismayed by vain hope and sadness.

Are scattered bits of rhyme that poets seek
the omens of an ancient imagined calendar?
For the dismay of vain hope and sadness
brings shame to the heavens which delight

in omens. Yet the ancient imagined calendar
returns eternally to those glorious trials
of shame, and the heavens rehearse delight
as the orange Sun is obscured by the clouds.