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September 28, 2017 | | Comments 0

The Constant You’re Looking For

September 28, 2017

The constant you’re looking for hides inside the looking,
The King whispers to himself in the dead of night for a
moonbeam pure enough to illuminate what cannot be
blamed, held imagined or understood: he breaks his
scepter in secret, buries it and orders a reward for its
return the next day,

‘Come into the jungle with me’, says a moth to a little
boy filled with fear and loathing,
The boy stands frozen, witness to heartaches ancient,
contemporary, his own and ghosts hosting stings deep
set and buzzing with lavender solace and purple agate
dust,

Dawn casts its line far down the raging river, hook and
sinker, bob colored red & white; a smooth lagoon, naked,
bashful as a fawn’s midday dreaming unknowingly under
a mountain lion’s lair,

Plumes of dried roses on fire in November spawn a field
of white clover lovers reaching upwards for the first time,
limelight dances in their invisible eyes and a fragrance of
completeness wreaths his legs in wondrous calm,

He sets one foot in front of another, a crown sprouts
wings and flitter-flaps away, pulling memories with it,
The jungle thickens and parts, showing him, not a path,
rather, a great white boa with deep-set emerald eyes,
The serpent coils up what’s rumored to be The Tree of
Life and constricts, cracking it in half, a swarm of honey
bees are freed; rivers of gold-soup consume the lands, as
a boat emerges, covered in white egret feathers and lead
by a clan of pink dolphins,

Slowly, assured, he lifts the paddle from its hull and breaks
it over his knee, dives into the sweet amber and learns to
swim on his own, no recues anymore, no knights, no law
& order, no god or angels, no saints or holy books
commissioned by reclusive gurus, divinities, wrathful deities
or goddesses disguised as human beings, no solar systems,
no Life or Death, no imagination, no dreaming or waking,
only this swimming, surging, giving, a vibrating Self, erased
so to finally exist, dead to death, heartbeat of life, color to
dark, dark to Light’s closed eyes, flower to petal, peacock
to elephant grave yard solitude, moonbeam to King, finder
of broken scepters and keeper of Secret’s secrets.

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Filed Under: Michael

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