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I Was Born

April 9, 2015

I was born into a blank statement of kindness,
My first action was to drink from a spring near
a mountainside belonging near a desert-meadow
filled with sage, cacti and a kind of silence that
I’ve not known since,

I heard the Sun’s footsteps carrying the Moon
to her throne, setting her upon it so that she could
then rise and lift him to his,

I began to walk towards some direction,
while inwardly available to what I saw in a new way,
A molding took place, an invisible plan, an echo of
decisions laid out by a world who had lived The
Surprise far ahead of me, into a realm of quiet things,
nuances and whispers of a relationship to me, though
no guarantees or strings attached, just my breath,
beating heart and facility for forward movement,

With these musicians I walked on, looking fixedly at
the snow-capped mountains, feeling a pull, a way,
a reason without an explanation or personal quest,
a sensation of duty without the projections of
congratulations and honor, a privacy within a privacy,
tucked deep behind walls of flesh, bone, marrow,
nerves, tendons and consciousnesses calling themselves,
‘organs,’ ‘glands,’ ‘memories,’ ‘ways,’ ‘I am’s,’ and
‘that was or will be.’

I carried a flame for years, cupped within my hands,
Always the same flame, never extinguished or relit,
Always fueled from the outside by the reflections
of my friends and the opportunity of Life itself.

Far into the high forests I glowed in the onyx of the
New Moon’s past. A silver lunar light shone ahead
and around me, mingled in the golden one about and
from me. I walked on, alone, unknowing, feeling and
carrying a secret thorn in my side, something pushing me,
twisting my fate this way and that, urging me without
pre-destiny, wanting me without falling in love,
wishing my name while remaining nameless, anonymous,
formless and without voice, vision, sensation or placement,

An illusion perhaps, a dream of conclusion, a forgiveness
of something that walked as Nothingness within me,
A nothingness that permitted all of Something to take hold,
mold and relentlessly drive me here, towards ‘that,’ at the
forefront of my heart, even in front of Life itself, a clock
that clocks keep themselves by,

Towards all feeling and minding my footsteps near cliff-
edges, canyons and the thin-iced ponds of dreams not
conjured knowingly, but who know me as I am and
sometimes ahead of, ‘I can be.’

I was upon it sooner than I had envisioned the discovery
would be, that yearning imagination of sudden ease, of
erasure or deep exhalation of some pressure wanting solace,
motionless de-encapsulation, some soft appraisal,
a gentleness, a forgiveness-balm, lightly rubbed upon an
aching mapmaker’s cramped hands holding fast to the ship’s
unswerving wheel, while starring fixedly into the liquid glasses
of a blind hurricane, reckless and whirling like a dervish on
fire underwater and volcanically inclined to sing new continents
into play and new air, giving up consciously for the only prize
worth having, to be free of needing one ever again.

A clearing in the forest appeared,
White doves set about black trees,
White polar bears grazed near the snowy boundaries
on white berries set upon milk-crystalline-shrubs,
White ravens perched in living limestone trees,
wearing white ice-crowns and holding scraps of
virgin vellum in their feet,

Warm snowflakes falling gently, a brisk wind
moans through an unseen canyon far away,
I see a white rectangle-monument and a story
written upon it with white ink, on a pearled surface,
peeling from age, its white scales piled at its base,
like pages from a living tree-leaf-book,

The moonlight gave way, shadows set in and
larger-than-life black wolves began a chorus of howls,
as it was upon me in a flash, a blood-red pathway
to a bright-redder temple. I steeled myself and continued
to walk as the winds rose higher and the wolves deepened
their song of Sorrow’s beginning and end, its full-circle
consistencies, like two mirrors turned in upon themselves
and vibrating with un-reconciled inquiry as to who the
Third-party was.

It was on the topmost step, when, as I peered in by the
blessing of a light inside of me, the one before the
sun and moon, before the flint and lightning strikes,
before words, past and present, it was by this vision-grant
that I saw you, naked, wreathed in pain, your tears of blood
saturating the temple’s skins, all dedicated, vivified as your
martial, red-coral sponge,

Your face, hidden in your hands, your undying pain’s
presence, immortally poised, while spheres of entwined
cobras birthed from underneath your feet, unwinding
themselves and silently spiraling into the darkness, while
leaving silver and ruby streaks behind,
Millions of stars where packed all around you, like icy-pollen,
transparently preserving you from age, from Earth, f
rom Mortality, from Hatred and Love, but not just for
Preservation’s sake, for me.

You’re shivering, your feet are anchored to the floor as if a
Universe might have been compassed into existence and
anchored by your very presence here,
The wolves, birthed from the fire in your heart, a secret
sequencer of wanting Life even as it’s filled with Death’s
hobbies and you the construction material,
Black canines, taught from your separation-song of distrust
and terror, to sing your solo-chorus of hurt, wound,
worthlessness and homelessness after your voice gave out
forever ago,

A timelessness set in amongst us and I spoke to you,
saying, “I am your father. I come because I had to and
didn’t know it. I am and was before the chores of these
fleshes. I was before the division of cells or any idea of
union. I’ve carried this flame and an injury I’m about to
solve by lifting you from this place. It’s my destiny to take
hold of you and the how’s and why’s you were rooted here
and to plant you upon my shoulders, like wreath of tropical
paradises, just as every inhabitable planet has an equator,
you are mine and I am yours.

We will walk from this place,
I, your crown and gown,
You, my pride, joy and glory.”

So I reached in, to the end of a long, red tunnel
and took hold of you and as the blood drained away
and distance between us was gone, the cold whispering
desolation departed and you smiled inside my face,
You held me from inside my veins,
You imparted closure as you turned your eyes
inside my own, bringing me to see you,
face to face for the first time in the light birthed
from the darkest of Dark.

Trust, vivid wholeness and wholeheartedness,
We stood still, the wolves now puppies at our feet in a
meadow of golden sunflowers and ripe wheat,
Windmills and thick, green grasses,
We’ve arrived, with two sets of footprints,
one inside the other,

All at once, you’re mine and I am yours,
This ‘we’ resounding,
White egrets, albino eagles and chalk-hued, solitary
emperors and empresses made of silk, honey
and gemstones walk about, as seed-planets
and wandering galaxies fall endlessly from them,

A breeze cuts through me and grabs the thorn
at the very last moment before Time reappears
and takes it away, setting its golden shape at the
feet of Love itself,

Time resets and I’ve begun again within an endless
conversation whose only rule is to say nothing
at first, throughout the middle and especially during
those endings who wink, as approving galaxies of
eternal individualities sparkle upon its surface,
just inside those eyelids made of gods and goddesses,
you and I, this, that and it.


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