I slowly verged on some ancient earthen mirror where pulsating mantras drum the perimeter right there, amidst wocus and cattail sticks, web-footed monks on pondlily altars sit Surveying all about their realm in lotus poise with sodden lids half veiling pensive eyes, awaiting the water spider’s minuet of night to dance before their sacrificial appetites Then forces stirred beneath this soul-pretentious spell that made the tide around the holy alters swell, when up some scaly serpent surged from worlds below to surface then and gulp one sacred body whole; the silver fin churned through stirrings of pellucid light flashing out beyond my saturation point of sight The ritual ceased and the clergy returned to dwell along the bank where the resounding ripples fell, the serenity mirrored by the pond then shattered and with it my dream, full of images, scattered