2016 05 23
After sunset the dead crowd around us
and whisper secrets in our ringing ears
that we forget right after we are born.
While looking at photographs of old art
painted by men now bones in rotting boxes
I remember when I was in warm flesh
that person depicted in smears of paint
so I walk outside library at sunset
and stare at faces of dead gods reborn
to inhabit bodies of normal humans.
Sun gleams red through limbs while I stand alone
among cherry trees on huge spinning globe.
I refuse to play any ancient role
recorded in legends, epics, and novels,
painting my name across the land in blood.
I will not play king or prophet to gain
everlasting fame in stories men read
that define narrative which supports base
of ancient empires that my fathers built.
I wear masks of their faces when I write
stories about people searching for truth
about physical nature of this world
to preserve heroic deeds of their quest
for holy grail that reveals pulsing spark
of atomic energy which weaves web
of shimmering molecules to form our souls.
No matter how close you look at my face
contours of my soul become vast landscape
of this world while I vanish into mist
of words I express while singing new hymn
to honor woman who holds flower sun.
Sun gleams gold over snow-capped mountain peak
while I walk around lake where we evolved.
I am eternal soul reborn each life
who migrates body from father to son
and mother to daughter in vine of being
and I wear masks of every person born
whose names are written in books no one reads.
Sitting in ring of stones on island hill,
I pour wine in gold cup and drink sweet blood
of Mother Earth who fills my brain with sparks
that wake memories of every life we lived
so I know how we evolved from One Eye.
You recognize this feeling I express
when we gaze forever in mirror of words
and see our own face reflected in stars
where we all thought we saw God in ourselves.