2016 01 17
Dim afternoon on quiet shadow street
where unnamed children never play wild games
oppresses sorrow from cracked wooden doors
to show how we invent sad games of love.
Returned from ancient city of dead gods,
she brings old leather books bound tight with skin
of devils who played chess with God and lost
so all his ravens gather in bare oak.
What secret keys of brass, forged by grim hands,
fall hidden where red flowers wilt at dawn,
though every door they opened long ago
were splintered by swift hurricanes of time.
When bearded elders gather in dark room
to share lost arcane secrets of rebirth,
he longs to enter door with no address
and see their map to labyrinth of our soul.
Old paradigm philosophers designed
how Cosmos burst from swirling flash of light
and formed huge sphere of spinning galaxies
remains our view on huge multiplied scale.
Our universe is huge pulsing egg sphere
that crackles writhing strings of plasmic coils
that weave huge galaxies of burning suns
that nourish planets where conscious souls dream.
They lie on grass in backyard fence at dusk,
holding hands in silent perceptive trust,
and gaze at stars that are not watching eyes,
entwined in faith of passionate desire.
Though we are nothing more than star-dust clumps
of throbbing flesh who wake in fragile dream
of momentary joy, we will embrace
and share sweet pleasure while we still yet live.
He holds her hands and gazes in her eyes
and sings creation of this world of souls
and for that hour of timeless ecstasy
their minds on wings of vision soar beyond.
Then silence settles on their cheeks like dust
that sparkles still from star-bright furnace flame
and all false knowledge vanishes in breeze
that weaves their clear eyes with infinite loop.
We may be nothing in vast span of time,
she whispers louder than silence of death,
but while we live we sing to express why
we invent our secret reason to strive.
I know that death will crush our pulsing souls
to dreamless death, he smiles in bright abyss
of her unblinking eyes, so at this hour
of conscious hope we will share one long kiss.
Though five times in long history of our world
disasters struck from empty void of space
to cause mass extinctions of hungry life
we will live now as if death never comes.
Though space between two points beams infinite,
forever split in half of measured length,
our bodies press together now to bind
our beating hearts in stream of aching love.
How strange that animating air we breathe
expresses sounds our minds combine in words
that signal objects and actions as thoughts
so speech connects our minds with matching dream.
Though I cannot know what is real or not
I reach my hand to touch your soft warm face
then speak your name and gaze into your eyes
and we embrace to become everything.
Wood skeleton of their fable-framed house
breathes chimera winds from pulsating hills
to beam on silver screen of memory
fantastic visions of dramatic love.
Genesis describes creation of Earth
centered inside large crystal shell of stars,
like Big Bang expands vast in Flaring Forth
within one huge holographic Black Hole.
She tugs his hand to touch her swelling womb
and whispers, here inside atomic shell
of my nourishing flesh our souls reborn
weave new soul from incandescent insight.
We are born imperfect bodies of flesh
woven from chemicals of pulsing atoms
and we achieve salvation from blank death
when we generate children of our minds.