the belly of the whale

flotsam from the wreck of time
we drift on the endless tide
and dream of home
and dream of towers of gold

and we fear the thousand teeth
and the angry fire in the belly
of Leviathan

and the great beast ploughs on
its inexorable path
along the whale-roads
and each quantum wobble's hoovered up
like krill

the whale does not share our qualms
is not picky
will not spew out on an unforgiving beach
the warrior or the worrier
welcomes into the abyss of its jaws
the king or the craven
the lover of the other
and the lover of the same
the saint and the uncertain

to be in the belly of the whale
is to hear the heartbeat of the universe
to be at once consumed and remade
to be carried to the unknown shore

Leviathan cares both less and more than us
less for titles, tidiness, sway
and more for blood and bridges and joy

and the only hell is to be left behind
as rotting driftwood on the tide