The Scarlet Letter
Volume II, Number 2 | October 1994
On Cue
By Π

From the depths the Word arose:
          A glyph of mystery,
          Time without history,
          The soul of destiny.

Spoken forth the Word was sound:
          And mind struck down at it,
          And matter fell from it.
          And spirit flew from it.

Echoes of the Word remained:
          The cord of life was tense
          Above the pool of sense
          Where ripples faded hence.

The silent Word is hidden still:
          The serpent's sleeping eye.
          The eggshell of the sky.
          The truth behind the lie.

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