Gaps appear by night like cancers in my mind;

Like so many clearings in the dunelands I float through

The full moon: supple, unplucked

Hangs threadbare

That Lady of The Night and ill-fated temptress

Sign of Eve

Who, alert to our lunacy, hastens still to glow and to guide as she once did

For ancestors long ago,

Who wrought their destiny from blood and clay;

Did they guess then how familiarity might breed contempt

And their descendants, scorning their sacrifice

As all bone and no fat

Upturn the very principles never thought twice of?

This same beguiler smiles on me this bright night with vacant eyes

And pockmarked face

Like some adolescent out of Greek Myth

And as I know her shadows, she too knows mine, knows very inch

Of the heartrending landscape I reflect skyward, like incense garbed in goats milk

Yet she, for all her desire may not lend me warmth nor light by which to see

Except that which she borrows from the Son

And the Son is nearer to me in kind.

So how do I find Him so absent to the knocking

When I call by his house, the door shimmers but never dissolves

Like residual Peyote

Once the cities are done folding into themselves

And giants’ bones have all been gathered up

To leave not a trace: Prometheus Unfound

He who walks on water seems sometimes to speak through water

So I breathe,

Draw my attention within, and when

Through careful ritual at daybreak

I throw open the shutters,

I see Him starkly indeed

In my mind’s eye

In the comfort the skin grants my very bones and congo heartbeat

In the blades of grass I trample and adore

And every lumen of this dawn:

The cloud forms pate-like, a patchwork quilt enrobing King Size Majesty…

Gaps open up, cancerous no more but free

And rays fall like honey into the sea

Warming, caressing

Gliding into her folds and valleys

And yet the greatest gift?

Is the knowing she is loved.

How to emulate then,

Sky Father and Earth Mother?

When so many of my instincts have been robbed;

Beaten out of me

For how easy is it, longing for non-duality

To overthink

When the shoe is on the other pole? And

Strewn about the place;

We find trash where we ought to find paradise

Sin-filled Starbucks cups

And our excess reflected in foil packaging.

How did it come to this?

For though I know trash when I see it

Plucking it feels

A drop in the ocean…

But once more heeding the still, quiet Voice

I clear these clogged veins

Piecemeal, like rivers and souls un-damned

Those Cardinal Waters of Old:

Pishon, Gihon, Tigris and Euphrates

And dive deep into Eden’s wellspring

Coursing by the pierced feet at The Tree of Life

In the New Jerusalem

Allow that holy bloodstream to reach through my own vines

And bear fruit

…Glorious in the chomping