The Eye of Horus

Papyrus reeds honor the sunset
Its sacrifice
For the rebirth of light
A reflection of
The winged-disk of immortality
Yet time will pass these riverbanks of still heat
Delicate in slow windings
Until the river forgets
Though that which gazes through painted eyes
Knows the lonely gates of today will look back upon ancient prayers
Once made of flesh temples in the tracing of a silent finger

 

The Guardian

Through the ages it guards the city
Its stony-posture high upon a ledge
Long before the Eiffel ever broke the horizon
To be a part of life’s hazy dreaming
Where no one will know
How many cold rains have fallen
On this demon
That ironically would protect 
A cathedral from evil
Chosen to be the immortal observer
Never needing to turn its head
Unperturbed of sympathy or remorse
As it looks below and sees
The tugs of the sun
On the passing world
Against the irregular seas of saintly pigeons
Disguising the turning centuries like the leaves
As children forever run
Behind their own wrinkled eyelids
And the benches that are but thrones of time
Where even the proud
Must eventually sit
As the eternal watcher sees the lovers and drunks
Gather in their processions of shadows
Coming and going like the silent serpent
That flows through its dominion
The Seine that also keeps the secrets
Of the poetic magma
Its fragments ever changing, yet the same
Surrounded by the gray stillness of endings
Forgotten by each new face
Until the evening’s silhouette against the dusk
Where the horned-sentinel has never closed its eyes
And nothing is missed for too much is seen

Organic Tides

A drift of quiet lies
Upon the still tide
Where all is organic
Infinitely so
Feeling the wind
Of all that rises
And falls
Like breathing
And here the reeds
Do crest
And the cranes crash
Upon the silence
As the smallest stars
Run and hide
Only to return
In the ripples
The dance of life
Ever graceful
In its seeming death
Scattering, falling,
And painting
Each moment
Only do I think that I am
Something apart
Or different
From the dream-luring
Being of the plants
And creatures
In eternal spring
And nature
Strumming
As they do the beautiful verse
Beyond words
Or even thoughts as these
As the cranes move
Like slow Egyptian gods
That do not seek bliss
But the tides

The Last Judgement

Apocalyptic mirror of the sea within the eye
The white-noise of the dream 
So seemingly real 
Veils judgement with emotions
That bind and steal
Illusion’s beast
With the haunted stones it casts
Though empty is the feast
Where self-made demons
Are born upon selfishness
That is hell’s eternity
Killing hearts with poverty 
Though heaven is all around
But the mind is blind
To see the true Self within
Instead to be a somber thorn
For a million false-realities
In garments of vanity
As judgement of another 
Is but judgement of oneself
For no one gives to us but ourselves
The last judgement being when the Absolute is known                                                                                         For there is but One Presence with no one to forgive
 
 

Paper Stars

I lost my map to the stars
When you left
I know it’s around somewhere
As I keep looking
Through all the dreams
At my feet
Like scraps of paper
Once so important
Now winnowing into 
Another sunless day
Not knowing
Where I am or where to go
If I could only hang them like paper stars
Perhaps I could remember my way back home

The Milk Glass

With unnerving attention
The glass shatters
And then
There manifests
An eerie calm
Followed by evading
Moods
And disquieting elements
Of menace
That slip between the
Meanings
And gaps of silent images
So surreal
And strange in their
Consequences
Yet eloquent and nostalgic
In the rememberence of time long after


The Darkened Husk

 

The darkened husk fell to the stream
Soundless in the slow, meandering water
That is transparent in the light
Of crystal sparks
As foundering leaves weave
The shadows with color
In the shapes of their ancient ancestors
Inching to the sluice of quick lips
Where some leaves gather above
As the husk drops between the rocks that are the precipice gates
To eternity

Know the Truth of What You Are

 

He who does not know His True Self
As the Truth of All existence
Believes in other things
And sees the whole of life
As less than perfect
As something outside of himself
Distant and apart
Filled with shadows of fear
For he himself is a shadow
Of misunderstanding and its hatred
Never seeing the kingdom of His Being
Already spread before Him
Nor Himself in everyone and everything that He Is
In this eternal moment that has always been

Wind Valkyr

 

Wind Valkyr
Lo come you swift
To spare not one
The fray
Weave your turn on woofen horse
Entrails of man
This day
Be wet with blood
As you decide which one should live
Or die
And choose the slain of raven mane
Firece shrieking as you ride
Apocalypse
The corpses dead
Your corslet red the sky
Of fearsome wif god
Maiden swift
With shield that bryn so bright
Helmed to spear
O‘ sister weire
Who comes of unknown light
So far and wide
The true do die
The most heroic slain
This battle swirl of ending world
What sacrifice the lain
What rite before
So deep the gore
All death to satisfy
With vigil near thy demon fear
Though beautiful the eye
You ride thy horse warwinning wolf
And take the dead away
Of hearts that died
Upon your cry
Not one left in the fray