Transformative

Mystically cunning, he haunted her soul,
leading the way with mind control. Ideals
known, but never lived; unknowingly, he
worked the magic currents. Always taking,
never giving anything of love at all.
(Would he ever come to realize that
this haunting had begun with her?)

Fool of folly, charlatan; claiming all his
learning done; an actor on a stage of
adulation - never admitting the harm
that he caused, he reached into the force,
the source of power, never knowing of its
greater consciousness. Drug-imbued, he
navigated worlds of dream and fantasy,
believing he would always win it all.

Noting absently, but never really noticing,
each fall that drove him deeper, farther,
wider still; until ground zero crumbled
under ever moving feet. A shock, a silent
pause within the ethers (oh, sweet peace,
please come to claim me now!) And yet
another kind of fall was coming real.

A feeling of all absence, always filled
by memories, was teasing him into
another level. Jets of steamy substance
came to bleach all sin away. The world
that he used to know was fading far away.
(He never dreamed that he would miss her so.)

Vacantly, his eyes took in another trance-
like stare; just before the glare became
complete - disassociated feelings come
at last to take him home again. Oh, the
pain, it staggered him, yet falling seemed
a purity of innocence by then. And then
that sense of timelessness began within.
(Oh god, it must be her!)

As he fell, his soul was in ascent. He
hung, suspended there between two realms
of being, knowing that release would never
come. Sweet whispering! The sirens sang
to him. Long, so long, he'd waited just
to hear this symphony divine. It opened
something deep inside of him that never
should have closed. A swell, a wave,
a thundering crash - clashing with the
lullaby half-sung.

'Twas as if he hung upon a thread that
had no end, suspended still between the
here and there, but without pain. Eyes
of light containing every hue of living color -
oh glory of all glories! (Had she come
again to love him tenderly?) An endless
breeze of airy heights; it blew through him
as if it had no end. A shiver from its chill,
and then his very will became a great fluidity,
as if a form of mercury that ever must
transform its shape in time and space
and being.

Was it some god or angel saving him
from all the loss left unamended in his
vast seclusion of confusion and division?
Or was an ancient mystery of never ending
esoteric history, reaching out to touch him
yet again - in memories he'd never reached
before? A word (one word) began to echo
through the particles of living flesh he had
become. "Open." Yet it said it so
commandingly, he couldn't help himself.

(A mighty rushing river flowing, glowing in
a multitude of hues of phosphorescence.
Rainbow colors reaching into tints of
never-ending bliss.) He floated there, and
glided - carried away by the drift and the
sway of some almighty force so great,
he never thought to fight its might at all.
(She held him, oh he wished this to be true!)

Mind moved on - was this the mighty
river Stix that man had come to fear?
Currents ever moving and surviving.
Tendencies that came to meet
and greet each other as a miracle of
multitudes that always knew each other.
(Triple Goddess of the moon, reaching
down in rays of an ineffable delight.)
Where were thoughts like these created?

He sank then, as he flew - yet still he knew
himself alive within the deeper moods and
darkness of all indigo. A sacred mass of
particles that swam themselves into infinity
within an undivided sense of unity. And there
he came to see himself - above, beyond
and somehow deep within. One to two to
three, this fourth was reaching for eternity.

Classified, the news of ever-after streamed
in undulating waves of such appeal, that
ecstasy became a guarantee - no matter
where he turned to see another view of
life and love completed. And all that once
he'd thought as other, came to be another
facet of the jewel life had come to be. He
knew, down to the core of cells and bone,
that this had always been his destination.

"I am" he said, and multitudes of waves
and possibility come real began
to sink into all being. "Yes" - intoned
within a pause, a purity of interlude - and
yet another star was born within the heaven
of all skies. The clouds themselves evolved
into a clarity of distant, vast horizons. Turning,
burning, cooling, reaching for reality. He knew,
beyond a doubt, that she was there with him -
in a cloud of sensitivity that reached beyond
the definition of the realm of intimate.

A rhythm and a rhyme began to beat itself
within each pulse his heartbeat had become,
just as his heart and mind and soul were
realized as one. A choir of angels chanting
ever on within his recognition - somehow he'd
always heard this hum of incantation.
And the magic of his dreams had always been
the source of all reality. Inspiration, intuition -
unseen, and yet more real than anything
he'd sensed within a mortal form of biased
definitions of an intellect of limitation.

Just as he drifted to the deeper realms of sleep,
this spirit (visionary, yet complete beyond
the realms of all sensation) was imprinted
in his waking memories. And this
was more than any hope or dream
he'd yet imagined. Healing, he slept within
her loving arms again. (Her charms
were so much more than sexual.)
Whole-heartedly, he felt himself
succumb, not knowing what this feel
of his consumption might become.

And so his great initiation came to be.
Awakening before the dawn,
he greeted light divine (somehow
transformed), and sought forever after
to entwine himself within
its shining rays...

? Michaelette ?

11/8/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .