Birth Dream

Flourish, fair wanderer, for the earth has not forgotten you,

Let the streams invite your stride into the mystery of evening dew;

Let the pendants of a moonlit tear receive the earth anew.

Let the silence of your step envelop in the mist,

Whose eyeless gaze may sift into the shapes you’ve kissed,

And reappraise the harmonic pendulum that swings to lunar bliss.

Let the midnight moment scatter into interstellar spaces;

Where the ennui of darkness relieves the maker of our faces;

Where the dream of death does soothe the tangled birth of our confusing living,

Mere etchings of a superficial understanding,

Posed against the ever changing origin,

The orifice of faceless men.

Receive the world in moonlight, as in honest sun,

For when the balances of waves have blessed the baking shores,

A revolution’s done.

Receive the light of molten rock,

And do not ask beyond the fragments of our reasoning,

For in the cycle of a season’s spring we may perceive the weaving of a golden painting, Breathing everything into an Esher, lunar, solar order,

Once the tide has told its tale, and time’s a little older

Receive the figments of such fluttered images anew,

For In sounds of spacious breath we drew the misty waves of our own beginning,

A majestic mystery is swimming;

For the crystal flower diamond prism has arisen in the jewel of our eye,

Now there is no one to see the light-revolving cry

Of ever burning souls, yearning to be born,

As myriads of clay-soaked creatures,

Swimming in the valley’s dawn.

Flourish, fair wanderer, and do not hold a map upon the path,

Rather sink into the compass, and the crested dreams of birth;

To behold is being in the trust of truth

To hold is to impose the past,

It is not the moon that changes

It is us, fair moon-children

And we must change

We must begin

To step into our own beginning