One Cry

A man cried out, in solitude,
that "God is really dead."
The tone of these vibrations reaches still
into the heart of all that matters,
as lifestyles become shattered
on the shoals of utter being
to create a union wholly incomplete.

He split himself in two
and then the four began to gather
aged in such extremes that only
battle could ensue, when the four
became a throng of mediocrity, and
all his dreams just crumbled into dust.

At first a wild, crazy, Dyonisian mood
set in, filled with sensuality that
took him to the base of matter -
core and center opening out,
yet deity itself would melt one split
into another, until the particles began
to mold into a new and everlasting form.

First one, and then another and another
of these ancient deities arose to claim
the very creativity that earth herself
had come to tame, within a womb
of moisture filled to overflowing
with her loving peace of mind.

His agonizing fear of death became
mere floating in these waters of
a love - encompassing the variation
of every great extremity of mood;
within a feel of loving nurturance
where he found a will surpassing
any human thought
within its balancing.

Colors opened out then, one by one;
endlessly enticing vision to go on
into a future form of all unknowns.
He rose then, as he fell, in a new stance
of utter dignity, and spoke - his tone
again would toll the world over,
"Divinity lives on."

For now he was the mother and
the father of himself reborn to form,
free to live eternally in realms
that few have ever come
to know at all...

? Michaelette ?

4/30/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...