Ensconced in a coffin, I flew through the night.
Through cities so dead at an hour so early, it
Seemed they’d been cursed by plague. Then, in
One nameless town, a dozen figures gathered
Round open fires, obeying a Shamanic rite to
Cleanse the world; in another a brass band
Thundered whilst citizens threw their arms in
The air with raucous joy, raining petals on a
Bride, awaiting her beau, at that very moment
Careering towards her, his white steed cleaving
The darkness in two, shedding his sins to arrive
On time for the redemption of love. The cold wind
Blew through the coffin as wagons loaded with
Pearls, spices, elephants and toads klaxoned
Their extravagance, pausing for no man. I saw
Pale palaces adorned with prayers, minarets
Gloating, temples reclaiming their swastikas, in
The most ancient of rites, the passing of night,
The quest for a new day, the resurrection and
The dawn. In the morning I was released from
My coffin. I found myself cast away in the fairy
Land of Udaipur, where the water sings to the
White palaces that scatter its lakes like lilies,
Whilst the women wash their rainbows in the
Grey green water which will nightly turn to gold,
As they were instructed to do by the one who
First conjured a prince who could bring the flower
Of her dream to life; and put the night to sleep.
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