Amended Into

Dying in financial realms
of constant win and loss.
Absorbing all the cost of history.
Manmade, the stays that buckled
and then just faded in the wash.

The lost cannot be found within
the loveless world of all their sins.
And yet it never had to do
with a religion.

Nature found herself
awakened by their cruelty.
Creation spent too cold,
too fast, to find awakening.
Burning blasts of fire were
mired in her desert sands.
And still they sought
to steal the source
of all of her command.

The strands, the threads
of life in love - so complex,
yet complete. One-sidedness
had only found a way
into defeat. No matter
any win or loss of endless
competition. The stakes
were high, instead of rooted
there within the earth.
Their mortal threads could
not withstand the truth of
living's worth.

Flying through the skies
had never brought them
to the basic worth of life
endowed by just one,
little miracle. The priests
and scribes, still drinking
too much wine, had lost
beyond appeal to those,
their hierarchy of powers.

The endless hours lived
in shame, became the guilt
they could not tame. And
thus the blaming game
went on and on. Based
upon an apex without basics.

Flesh and form still mattered
after all. Even as the known
of all their little worlds was
shattered into particles
to small to be retrieved.
The handyman was then
relieved of purpose.

Morose, he sought to keep
it going somehow in his sleep.
For he couldn't bear the feel
of what he chose to call the real.
Not anymore. For he'd found
the floor to be too hard to land
upon again. While all the heights
he'd ever lived were never near
to being heaven-sent.

Another sigh, as yet another life
was bent at the peripheries of what
the fools named safe. A title and
a foolproof stake of land. And yet,
for all their laws, they'd never come
to understand the feel of truth in unity.
When was it that the math became
the only flame they felt...? Numbers
floating into space that never found
the feel of grace descending upon them.

Gold once held, turned into scraps
of paper that withheld its worth to them.
Balances that long ago, turned into
hues of garish, dirty red. A splash
of sunlight reaching into them.
Cleansing views of all the many hues
of rainbow colors. Sensational, the feel
of real, just there. Blending into
altered attitudes. Deep within -
where spirit stood with heart.

And intellect was set adrift again.
Within the feel of flesh and form.
Amended into living unity...

? Michaelette ?

9/4/2003
Copyright© 2003 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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