Sunday, July 12, 2009

When Death is imminent

In the threads hanging from heaven
Fly butterflies
Sun and Earth
Join together
Within the dense pores
Creation of truth and equality
Has begun on the mountain slopes
Sculptor has begun meditation
Before the heaps of clay
New fields of struggle
Are in formation
With kindliness and love
As weapons
Along the paths to heaven
Sights of the army of love
Marching forward
The final moments of
Until I dissolve in my end
Through wind, rain and sun


  1. What a strong and true perception of the very wormholes of space becoming space itself - then your use of space linking to space at the end of the poem. the aimless aim at the end is, I feel, much like an oroborus - the empty blending going back to the crown chakra's necessary connection. What is of great interest to me is how all that is encoded within a poem is, at one time, clear to the sight - and yet invisible. As I read this I feel a gestalt shift of foreground and background - and suspect we are, all of us, being drawn towards the 'empty'


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