Fellowship

Men in the dark
around some fire.
It's an old scene.
Maybe the oldest.
It's a good place
to make plans,
cast galaxies.
The flames fling us
from ourselves
in shadows that
bleed into everything
beyond our circle
and our moment here.

We speak in turns,
out of our canyons,
our yawning caves
and in a mystery
unplumbable
the fire between us
consumes our words --
a holy incense rises --
our souls chant,
and we chime --
brothers ringing bells
in the deep night
and then we see one another,
sense the presence of
the most ancient of souls,
and in the stillness of all
that presses in around us,
we draw close.