A Light in the Darkness

A light in the darkness

The emptiness, void

Pierced

By bright, beautiful,

Bountiful light

Washing in waves

Whirling twirling into

Tumbling, stumbling bubbles

Blowing in the interstellar breeze.

Twisting twirling washing whirling

Pools of starlight form.

Spinning round and round they go

Going, going,

Gone in bursts of white hot,

flashing, burning fire

Beauty fills the world.

The Bubble

We live in a shimmery shiny sphere a,

Great big glowing bubble;

It blots out the world and

Blurs our sight while

So so many sorrows

Scream in our direction

Begging it to be broken

But all too many times that bubble

Blocks out the sound.

White light and the whisper of wind,

Green grasses and towering trees

Cultures cool and picture perfect landscapes

Are all that our already damaged eyes

Are able to make out

through the soapy rainbow film.

But not so often nor

near to near enough

someone takes the time to step

a daring step, through the film’s protective surface

finding something real.

A Truth, imperceptible through our

Big, beautiful, bright and shiny bubble

Begging to be broken.

And maybe what she sees can save her,

Can even save us all

But more often than not

She breaks.

And now what will we do?

We wait and watch

Through our shiny shield

Shutting out the world

And nothing ever changes.

Absurd.

But every so often,

And not so often,

One who breaks through

Can turn around and

Punch a puncture past the partition

Popping the painting,

The picture perfect portraits

That fit so well

Into our definitions of the world

And for a moment we are open,

We are free,

We are enlightened.

But as with all good things,

this one, too soon must flee.

And back again the bubble builds

Across our eyes and once again

We come to this,

Living, loving,

Life not worth living,

Inside our shimmery shiny sphere.

Time

The years go by for us

And as I watch them go,

I know not what to feel.

All things have an end

Or so I’m told,

But what is the end?

What is any end?

As I watch them pass

I know, I won’t ever see them again

And yet I will.

The sane ones, sages

Of conventional wisdom

Dictate to us that we should be sad

As all things end,

We mourn our dead and

Weep for what won’t ever weep again.

But some wild thing may ask in defiance of the old rules

“when is an end not an end?”

And, bemused, the wandering wonderer

Answers, plainly, “always.”

They say time passes,

And many wish to return to what once was,

Not realizing that through that very wish

Their minds become their time machines

And a wellspring of emotion

Floods up through their soul,

As if, for just a moment, they were still there.

And were they not?

An end is not an end

When all that was will always have been

Never-changing,

Facts of existence, always existing

In the hearts and minds and souls that were

And are

That will be,

And always will have been.

To a Goddess

Way out here, your eyes appear a star.

Those waving, rushing storms conceal your heart,

And cloud nine high, they burn, an acid touch.

And some ways closer look a barren white.

And yet I know

Those ardent flames do dance beneath your face,

And down below, your passion glows with fire.

Molten metals flow down from your peaks,

Silver streaks, a beauty, and a terror.

How I do long to float up in your skies,

To ride your storms, and share the biting pain.

To feel your heat, and know your soul

And leave this Earth behind.

Evangelion

It was always about power.

Your need for greed drives you on through the long haul

A rock climb over the backs of the less intelligent

To reach your sacred top.

To win you sin

And as your crowds raise up the din

You smile

With that burning fire

A smolder in your eye

They die

Day by day

For your Truth, your Justice, your Sacred Flame

Your God.

But what if I would tell you that

you, like I, know nothing

None about that sacred power, that endless eternity that

Binds all things

Whose desires you claim to know so much about.

And now I’m trapped by your

Sacred Conquest

A prisoner of the War Against

Modernity.

There are those who’d say “I’m sorry.”

Those who’d pity you and look down on you and your 

Primitivity 

With kind sadness.

I give you no such sympathy.

You cite your holy gospel of kindness and goodwill

And spread an Evangelion of hatred.

But unlike your holy lord, I am not full of mercy.

And I say you do know what you do.

You do not deserve my pity,

And I hope you burn.