DREAMING OF. . .DREAMING OF. . .I. DREAMING OF ANCIENTSa chunk of land floating in space, in timea checkerboard of marble upon the grounda center courtyard with paths in four directionsjasmine and lavender lightly scent the airi sit upon a stone bench in the center of the courtyardi read the BOOK OF ANCIENT ONESfaintly echoing, your voice draws my attention 'do not fear, precious, i am waiting for you'i place the book on the bench and look for you 'come to me my brother, my love'i hesitate, then take the northern pathi find my way to a fountain of fire 'burn away your fears, your sins'i place my hands into the flames but a
LITANY OF ESCAPELITANY OF ESCAPESleeping, I wake from lizard trance,stepping to the tune of ancestral dance.I pick up my feet and put them down in a pattern unknown,but witnessed well in the murky bubble of my private hell.Filial music of created sound, spins me, turns me, whirls me round.Lost in smoke, all light obscured, internal listening strainstoward a silent word.Frantically struggling to hear, I clutch at endless veils blockingmy inner ear.Finally surrendering to my plight, a world is illuminated by yieldingto the light.A single decree is written there, simple and strong,I hear it now, prayer.Planets wheel and suns revolve.
there he is