Something To Do With Love


Something To Do With Love

I like the guillotine of God’s council
In the retina of the stone,
In the fiery bramble bush,
In the outrageous Spring bud,

I like to ride the blue corona of the candle flame;
To emanate on the echoing ring of axe to wood,
To hear the harmonies of angels
In the hallowed arc of the charged cranium,

It’s hard to explain
How or why
Our beloved would ever forsake us,
But that doesn’t mean
We are incapable of forsaking Him,

Something to do with love, I suppose,
And love’s betrayal,

Something about an ancient, nearly forgotten promise
Once made,

Something to do with standing naked
In the first garden
At dusk
And not allowing it to be enough,

Something about the weeping of a long lost lover
Beyond the furthest warp of time and space,

Each night we go back to him,
Who is our sanctuary, our home,
Our true nature, our place of freedom,
Our eternal longing,
And in precious Oneness
Merge with him
Completely and unconsciously,

Then we slowly fall back
To our individual reality, awakening
To hear the last faint echoes
Of our protector angel, singing,
The spiraling lullaby
As we float,

And the everything
And the nothing
And the everything
And the nothing
And the everything
And the nothing,

The heartbeat of creation.

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