October Christ!

In the silence of the evening light and wintered sleep

I dreamed your eyes and kissed your ageless time

and there you were holding my hand as I slept without a peep

for you were Narnia running wild in the Cotswolds deep.

And you my monk, my Oxford don did speak a heightened tongue

as I dreamed and dreamed of the ancient Hindoo city of  Mandu.

While you had moved on to play and entertain the Sun

for you are the  mystic fire that only the theologians knew

And I was just a poor boy awed by that crack in the sky

because it was there when the sliver of light did

came a giant octagon screaming night-time fire

And it was you dear Bede a holy sacred sphere

My  birthday October Christ did I hear!

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