Human voice, forever etching
patterns in expressions of its tone - when
will you find your way back home to me...?
Patiently, have I awaited thee, that one and
only lasting chance to be your history. Yet still,
you seek some other, far below the mists
that I myself have boundaried for you.
I am the earth, and thus
I am, in truth,
your living mother. Why do you seek
some black hole in a space beyond all
flight to come to find me...? When e'er
I sketch your beauty through the nature
of my own creation; accepting even
wanton lust, as just another scheme in
the meandering of minds detached from
heart and soul and spirit speaking.
Long ago, I met the thrust
spears that flew through this, the air
that I so freely granted you. Yet still,
within my heart of hearts I feel - that time
before, below, behind - those minds that
you believe to be only within your cranial
structure - must still feel me calling out.
And I wonder how I might amend
this gross misapprehension. And so I send
another spark of light - a spark that seeks
reentrance in the very cells that you believe
are bounded by your flesh.
E'en now, I watch it intermesh
into your fated
form. And so I sleep this dream again, of love
made real within totality. For galaxies depend
on these, particulars of atmosphere (yet still
invisible), as they release themselves
into the one infinity of life creating consciousness
of all that is. Never truly named or spoken,
yet still the birth and thus the worth
of every living particle of being. It matters not,
the slant you seek to put upon my living evolution.
For I alone enfold and thus unfold you into being.
Lo and behold, I still
ring round the sun - he that I
attracted to this being. And so he stays, to make
another day into the glory of his rising and his setting.
But ask the moon, she'll tell you true - reflection can
be found in any mirror. While you reside within
the slivers of a mirror that only mortal death and
its force of absolute belief in that one-half
of all authority has taught you to believe.
And so, we must yet one more time, just move
and take this chance that dances into evermore.
For everything now known
- and all that's left of the
unknowns - depends upon this stepping that we
seek to be, in sync eternally; and we must sing,
eternally, these tones of every living particle of flesh
into the mesh of all infinity, sketching forever just here:
within the tones of every word we bring to truth and thus
into this stream of love and life that flows - forever free
of any boundary at all...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home...