We All Fall Through

A lotus flower of light, shedding petals at its seasons’ end,

As jasmine leaves that shine so bright,

And blaze with purgatorial intent;

Dissolving on the silent lake

That shimmers in the moonlight wake,

The blossoming of phoenix wings that writhe and shake,

To instigate the end of all beginning;

As golden petals swimming, so awake

In circular siroccos of light;

As a creature reaching out into the night,

Crying for the moon to realize

That none too soon, its artful dying will ignite.

A spirit tail to crystalize how the phoenix feels its flight,

In diamond dust to see its eyes, and dissolve into the light;

And reappraise the cages that were raised

And how such wings were kept to behave.

We all fall through into the silent summer,

Where the pregnant buzz of fireflies,

Swarm into a secret jungle stammer,

And a ritual disguise, is melting off our ancient face;

The inferno eyelids spill into the space

And fill this empty matter, as nectar pouring

Down into a beaker, filling every form and

Therefore joining it together;

As a fire in every rain drop of the weather.

We all fall through into the greater picture,

Where unimaginable images flourish right before us,

And the mixture is adjusted thus,

That we can see the concoction of the potion,

Evolving an equation of revolving transformation,

We all fall through into the great dimension

Where the mention of a sentence is never-ending

Invention; And the end is the beginning,

And the beginning never ended,

And all will be well, when this has once been mended;

And we are here again.

These Pearls of Glass

An abacus of crystal beads

Telling tales of where our story leads,

That every hour swings away,

To the magic of our modern day.

These pearls of glass upon a rack,

Orbiting the cosmic track,

As diamond tears of sunken worlds

And vivid dreams, seen in radiant pearls;

Where each to each a golden mirror holds,

And promises the earth, to the truth of Old.

From the astral planes we sought

Such galaxies of thought

To swim onto our solar shore,

These pearls of glass, to speak of evermore;

In the axis of our values

From the systems we subdue                                       

Where with control, we seek to  find a clue.

Beyond these cisterns of our minds

Such prisms spill out and unwind,

In rivers, to the ears of mankind:

From Aztec mountains to the river Inca,

From the moonlight to the smile of Buddha,

From mechanics to the mystic man,

From 2001, to where we began,

Each does breathe a crystal sphere,

Reflecting image of us Being Here.

And like children throwing marble worlds

That fall  open as such diamond pearls,

They leak their liquid to the centre,

Where they melt into the structure, of the abacus presenter.

These pearls of glass do chime together,

Beyond the beads of rainy weather,

And ignite in an eternal song

In panting raptures, from where we belong

As they glisten and listen and endlessly remind

Us of an eternal interplay we left behind;

As galaxies collide,

A chaos we can’t hide,

My eyes are seeing blind,

Our life played in rewind,

A fantasy we tried,

A space that’s open wide,

There’s nothing…left…to hide

Where the River Runs

Who searched through all asylums for their ancient sanity
To blossom into mirrors of divinity,

Who ran their paintbrushes through sands of time
To spill their colour on our ancient crime,

Who sprawled and crawled across the crackened tiles
To flood into the diamond water of the Nile,

 Who dissolved into their thick sienna sleep,
Into threaded dreams, and those ceruleans secrets that we keep,

Who danced exultant through the sultan's magic chords,
And fell into enchanted orchards of the lord,

 Who gazed into the bottom of the spyglass puzzle
And saw beyond the games of master's whip and timebound muzzle,

Who saw their names engraved on Amazonian oak
In a timeless tale embroidered in those words we spoke,

Who heard a droplet in the lake of silence,
Through aching ears of aging violence;

 Who spun their webs beyond the orbit of control,
And exploded in the eyelid of a blackened hole,

Into hollow caves of lightning burst
That echo with an ancient thirst,
Inhaling all the hail of breath and birth
Reflected on the hillsides of the earth,

Who raged with the creative whim
To see the endless forms this wheel can spin;
And witness as this great design unfolds within,
Where the embers of an era, are about to begin.