Classic Poem

I came as a question
In infancy I knew the malice
of time, a child sacrificed
on the threshold of the house
having lived the beginning and the end
I was the amulet and the eye
the holy sepulcher
and the altar
with open jaws
Sated with the wisdom
of the old ones, I raised
over a tangle of crossroads
the banner of exile
I knew maidens
both fair and dark
and hoarded in jars
the honey of lips
wine of a nipple
and the wine that I pressed
and the wine that I sipped
and the wine that I dripped
on the velvet of the body when aroused
I was a fire inside her eye
where distances interlace
the wick and light
night, the voice and silence
the thing, its opposite
everyone and I
My blood was the harvest.