must we again be crammed like cattle in the birth canal?
every vestige of the old clings and clutters
like intoxicated flies of autumn that will not be swatted away
they weave listlessly
landing near to our noses and teasing with the momentarily unattainable
our feet stuck in the syrup again
we know we are but an instant away
the land of the promised tangoes toward us
only to pull back sharply in a volte-face
a sea change poised in oscillating sway
renders us restive and incomplete
the vibrational backhoes rev their engines
they have arrived to carry away the sweepings of unlived lives
clear slag heaps of ancient flotsam and jetsam
of runious choices and decisions of invalidity
is my closet not yet empty of the remnants of reconciliation?
transmutation is a bittersweet pill marked by rhapsody and lamentation
supernal spiraling and plummeting freefall
we hang on tenterhooks decaying to the core
while the chrysalis pulses in deconstructive readiness,
quickened by impending genesis, the final molting tickles our tongues
wends its way through a helical dance of evolution
and urgently entreats us to be patient once more.
How could I possibly reply to that comment? Glad my words struck a chord within, Hermit…
I don’t know what to say but I did have some …
Though 100 angels,
on a pin,
barely one will fit,
the hair’s breadth
When I think that I can have,
That for which my heart has yearned,
A snake invades,
The monkey grasps,
As tiger roars,
Immolate this Desire,
and rescue Passion.
Bathe in Grace,
Return to Bliss.