Thursday, December 7, 2006
Ah, the irony of all things seen...
If the seer is not clear
The miraculous slips to oblivion
Ah the irony that while men seek
lovers among feverish masses,
While boys touch themselves,
and we fight broken images of ourselves...
a protector looks on guaging all,
Holding hands with a destroyer...
And behind them a flower buds anew...
Symbol of the shining Creator.
Everything in perfect symmetry
and yet, for most, it goes unseen.
Ironic too, that while the Great Earth
heaves a weary sigh in the stillest
point of the night...
I remain aware of my dearly Beloved.
He beyond form... He who dances.
He beyond gender...She who here, now
Full of affection and sensuous blessings.
The rock, the tree, the lips that waver...
the hidden meaning...
Ah, the crystal clear mind.
Door to wholeheartedness...
Mirror to the kindest of smiles.