Countdown to the Noumenia: come.

though you are ever a strange God,
be not a stranger to me.
Show me all the many faces you wear,
the forms you put on when you come among us
to make the earth fruitful and the forests to sound
with laughter and the dance of the mad ones
who tear the grapes from the vine and love the wet raw feast.

Come as a bull with horns of flame,
come as a serpent slumbering in a bed of soft grass,
come as a leopard chasing its prey
or come as a beautiful man
with eyes full of longing
for the joys and sorrows of this world
and all that lies beyond.
Come as it pleases you to come,
so long as you are here with me now.

For I yearn to feel your presence enfold me
like the tendrils of ivy that cling to the walls of a temple,
like the warmth of good wine as it spreads through my body,
like the furious winds that drive the poet’s thoughts
on to unfamiliar places,
like the memory of what it is to be truly free
that lurks inside each one of us.