He pointed left,
where the sun bowed low in the west.
And God, I asked?
To the right, he said and vanished.
It was a long road through a fog
that swirled like clouds
And many were going with me,
behind, ahead
Though no one spoke or stopped, moved past
or turned aside.
But when we reached the edge of time,
I grew afraid
Until one found me there and smiled
and took my hand
Then led me step by step again,
a little child.
First, the night came to me
in the shape of a moth.
With a soft flick like breath,
its wing-tips grazed my head.