Alchemical Reactions

Terrified, the mighty god approached his mirror image.
He'd never let them look upon the truth of all he was.
One glance, and that, their one true god, withdrew into
the furthest reaches of all mind. Insanity was beckoning again.
He mustn't let them see that he could be that other side,
that he'd spent centuries denying - even as he blamed it on
some father God that never did exist within reality at all.

Eons came and went without approach. Millennium -
where all that he once loved was left behind, rejected
by self images that laughed through endless skies
in mockery. Idols came and went, he didn't care.
The angels felt the growing pain of all the swelling
wealth of worlds his children could not claim,
because of Him.

And then one day, within a shade of starlit indigo,
an anomaly was born. Silently, amid the growing storms.
Tears streaming from its newborn eyes that never
seemed to open wide enough to see it all.
One little light amid the dark of night.
A silent, ever-building call for all that once felt right.
Terrible, the rage and fear of His inheritance,
lay all too heavily upon its little growing soul.

Attempting just to see it all, it looked inside His eyes.
Queer, the notion of one growing whole was swept aside,
astounded by the particles it found. Chaos sweeping
round and round in alchemistic glee. Bubbling, the vas
could not be seen within the steam; until a golden light
begin to glow within each particle, unknown.

It saw itself just then, and knew at once that it would
never ever really be a man. The images reflected far too much.
Wide-eyed and simply staring then, it felt a need to start
it all again. Yet it never could quite find its way back to
the light of day. Clarity was muddied by the steam that
its experiments created. Order in a reasoned mind turned
into anxious climbs that only fell. The ancient and the
modern did not dwell in the same frame - not any more.

Terrified, the mighty god approached his mirror image.
He'd never let them look upon his countenance before.
One glance, and then the god withdrew, into the furthest
reaches of all mind. As if it couldn't find just what it
sought there in her sight. But it felt their fright, and knew
it as its own.

The beastly side of this one god was banned by the elite.
Satanically, its messages were all returned unread.
The evil of the world became attuned to sordid red.
It took to bed, but could not linger there forevermore,
for something woke it, constantly, from deep, dark voids
of dreamless sleep. Howling, the nightmare screamed
of all that It was not.

Ghouls fed upon the carrion that used to feel like life.
Bits and pieces of its soul were carried up on high.
Dropped again, within the wind, to fertilize the wild
and happy grasses of mid-life. Waiting for another day
of time and space and present history. Invisible, the
tale was told in whispers, as the blowing wind would pass.
Frequently, its frequency was altered. Tone and chime
without the aid of rhyme. Unsteadily, the rhythm rocked
it all.

It all had been forgiven long ago. Sins of greed and vanity
advanced to take control from loving hearts. Focused
on obsession, all their worlds began to simply fall apart.
The sky was falling, desperately, in them - and then,
it finally found a way into the greater world of men.
Gigantically, the phallic structures hovered in and out
of the erect. Spews of glory vandalizing all that once
seemed so correct.

They never knew the dues they paid were suffered
by them in His sorry stead. Intimate, the knowledge
kept on building. Ecstatic and unbounded,
as if one giant spending spree, unstopped.
Discarded, as they went through more and more;
wandering from store to store to store.
Until one day, they knocked against
the door of evermore and found the truth.

September 11, 2001. Twin towers falling into growing doom.
Unbounded weeping, sorrows' sin, it entered into them
in just a sound, still seeking more. And then the sight - echoed
time and time again, across the screen they claimed to be so
right and true to them. There were angels crying in the dark,
just there, without a spark of light in adoration. Mirror shattered,
light withdrawn into some other dawn they never saw.
They knew it not, the once awakened presence of all soul.
Not even then.

Shimmering, in silent corners, echoing the feel of the pain
that man created then - so consciously - seeking to become
the best that life had lost within another era's gain.
Startled, they were cast out from the dream.
Shaking with the quaking images of god
now gone insane. Deep down, a sense of awe
began to build into the grace of gratitude.

Face the fear, it dissipates, in growing increments.
Suddenly, the God was standing there. Alter image
of a golden icon spied within their youth. And
bowing down, the God began arising once again.
There, within the steam revealed,
just when the vas was shattered on the stone.
Alchemical reactions never end...

? Michaelette ?

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