We had carried plows and carts to draw the charts of our eventual return,
Where astral readings would review the dawn of our early reign;
Hoping just to see the morning star beyond the sign.
And absolve the shadowy mistakes that offended the design.
And ushered in by sunlit faces, that spoke the language of our dreams,
We asked if we were really separate from every fish that fled the stream,
As we sat in hidden caverns, and wrote our thoughts in clouds,
That dissipated as the moment went, and rained in celestial shrouds
Into splendid clothes that we could not wear, and a fruit we had to chew,
As the mathematicians of the heavens wrote the answer was not one or two:
Where our deepest desires flourished into auburn lands,
And every unborn leaf was loved in autumn splendour,
And the patterns of our parents reframed the meaning of a man,
Within the inter-stellar cosmic vendor.
Where our father let our flesh be eaten by the cannibals of old,
Who had read in ancient books of how devoted whips are sold,
And a cow of untouched gold, had known her silent majesty,
Who had once announced that everyone who’s here is free.
Where our dreams of climbing to the moon were extinguished in terrestrial vision,
Of E.t. chalking on a metal board of our inherited aggression,
Asking just the flowers to arise in compassion’s bloody tears,
And restore communication in salvation’s ear.
Where we walked in empty, free processions, through these fields of wheat,
And reconciling with our mother that had lain beneath our feet
We sat within the garden and were washed by golden glinted trees,
That had given to the rain and drifted in returning seas.
Where we sat among the circle, and saw the centre of the sun,
That asked the corn within the earth to grow,
And absolve confusion until opposites are one,
And ask the skulls of the deathly kingdom just to show,
As the moonlight lays its whitewashed blanket down
And everything was recreated in the morn.
Where we sat around the timeless well and cupped the angel water
That had manifested as the essence of a golden face,
That glistens in the heart of every person’s matter,
Who become what they already are, if they retrace
The droplets to the centre of this timeless seat,
And let the purest flower imprint the heavens on their feet.