Something dark and gothic with the shining
inner being solus solar plexus expanding
from within. Radiating outward of star
matter and rays of light. A skeleton,
smiling in spite or because of his own
death. Or maybe because he knows
death is like life in that they are joined
hand in hand like lovers. Flowers
will grow through the cracks
in his smile, the cage of his ribs that protect
a new kind of heart.
A corona halo hovers above and shines,
levitating its way to announce the holy holy
holy ness of everything, yes there are no
eyes in the sockets but it's plain as day
that the dark night of the soul does not actually
exist or contain any sleep. It is a great eye,
lidless, forever awake
after the closed lids of the human shell
sleep until the maybe
next dream.
Earth may be the only creature
that knows sleep as it is known, where dreams carouse and arouse thoughts
anti gravitational. It is a
waking and sleeping giant,
growing and living and dying.
If the earth is alive and never truly
dies, what can be said of us?
Are we also the eternally returning spark
of light and life.
Why am i always haunted by images
of lanterns bobbing in the darkness?
Sometimes on water, reflecting shining
in the full empty dark of the ripples
on the waves...sometimes hanging
somewhere in the trees, a forest
with lightly whitely falling flecks of snow.
Maybe i just love the thought of a light
in the darkness. A life, endless searching
for a thing just like that, a sign to point to, lighting the way home
like a single fractal star in the web
of the night sky, black and big and deep
and wide as the expanse in the caverns
of our insides.
I love things that have horns and halos
both. Wings and scales. This is the only
reality i know. Skulls jeweled and painted
technicolor, adorned with orange flowers
and set beside candles and food,
images of the dead. This is a welcoming
them home. Saying "we remember you,
you are not truly dead."
My cards flicker in the lamplight,
candlelight. I ask them questions.
My ancestors and guides and angels
and demons all have a hand in the cards
falling from the deck like snow
in the forest. Like lanterns in the dark
lighting the way. I read the cards, tell
myself a story about my life.
It never ends.
Please dont forget to play. Can you remember
the last time you danced? Sound moving
you to ecstasy in the kitchen as you wash
dishes. What was the last game you played?
Please don't forget to laugh. Tears doubling
over your cheek as you hold yourself
together. Eyes shine as you marvel
at your fortune. To be alive and able to
experience something beyond explanation.
No amount of words will illuminate
that which illuminates. Light defies
translation. It is there to be seen. To be
felt.
The miracle. The miracle, o, the miracle!
I am believing it. I am seeing it. I am feeling it. I am tasting it. I am hearing it. I am smelling it. I am being it. It is I.
I hope rumi knows i heard him loud and clear.
