Redeemed Again

An unsymobolized significance arises in a mist,
all distance lost to sight of mortal eyes unaided;
drizzling in drops too small to call it rain.
Floating in the air, they reign in mystic fantasy,
and soul begins to bleed itself from outside in.
As repititions of the swirling clouds complete themselves
blending into well-worn paths
that rarely reach the center of the maze,
for they travel in a school composed of blind obedience.

Compulsively, too many follow,
choosing unlived lives of irresponsibility,
waiting for another yet to rise and take the lead.
Holding close the secret of aggressive fantasies,
as compulsively, they trivialize
the light of their unseeing eyes.
Closing then, the very open-mindedness
that brings all sense to creativity.

Perverse, the passions raging out of tune,
lashing out in power’s aggrandizement;
denying every upward flow as they debase
the root of all emotional reaction.
Releasing and repeating sordid attitudes,
believing they must conquer and thus victimize
the innocence that hides so deeply hidden
in the veins that throb and sob in such abandonment.

Masochistically improving on the sadism of pain,
manipulating everything they touch invisibly.
All to be spent within the thrill of their destructiveness
that alters, for a time, their feel of utter neediness
even as they lose the gain of loving sensitivity,
that reaches, lightly touching and absorbing everything;
transcending loss and gain to reach beyond, within.

Searching for identity – what shall we choose to be?
A saint and a sinner, to give and receieve,
or can we finally reach the center of it all?
A paradise reforming in recall of particles
rebuilding basic DNA in an infinity of praise;
re-lettering the alphabet as we begin again,
just when Omega touches Alpha
and the linear extends itself in circularity.
Head snaking its way to a tale that retells
the fascination of all incubation’s dreams.

Twining and entwining, entering
into a uroboric mist of loving creativity;
exposing beauty in a tone,
spoken in the clarity of innocence resolved.
For the world revolves around the sun,
moon following within their spin;
as matter travels faster, faster
outreaching streams of light that sing
of this sense of ecstasy made real.

Angels rejoice as the father descends
from his imprisonment upon that throne
at last to know the feel of flesh himself.
Enticing him to move in grooves,
exceeding the propensity of opposition;
as high to low, he finally finds the in between
for the Goddess is redeemed again at last . . .

? Michaelette ?

2/7/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .