Last voice of the organics


44

i

There is a river around
Me of love, a writing of fire
A slab of jade on my back
A testament to the love

Of what we do, not why we do it
It’s like God working through
Us, or a snowstorm in August

ii

Or the circular days finding
A year of extraordinary fantasy
That’s art, and that’s also life
Relationships, mutual influences
The energy behind a book

The process of alphabets
Converting on a brain
Unifying incoherent symbols

iii

A language of creation
How birds and stars can meet
And how creatures evolve
There is a river of sound
It’s the narrative of all stories

Of the very act of story-telling
It’s the inheritance of millions
Of years of effort, to grow

And to understand truly
What it means to be human
And now, it’s all changing.

I COME TO BUY A SMILE OF LIGHT


9

I was burned in the Night
Awoke to my own blister of Dream
Awaiting Dawn, I heard the voice
With every Morning’s Beam

I felt the lids of Memory break
Like an open Seal of all that
Can ever be Experienced
My Sense featured only Beloved images

Which I saw to my surprise everywhere
I was created Mystical in the Night
Distilled from Sunday Twilights
I Harvested from every Sun

A bit of madness in the Source
That was a Love no mind or soul
Might Contain, only envelope
For a very short interval.