Thursday, November 17, 2011

The Gate

With messages sent back through time from more
Complexity to now, an oracle
Is needed to translate the metaphor
Into a metaphor once he is full.

A python wraps around the dendrites, hides
Away the branches, there in silence hides.

Confessing one’s an oracle is sure
To open far more eyes with cataracts
Than those prepared for wisdom can endure,
Than those prepared for disconcerting facts.

The earth is open underneath, the air
Is full, the temple makes truth gauzy, bare.

I’m but a node between the next and now,
And blind and deaf translator in the song
Of yet unspoken languages – endow
The world with beauty and you won’t belong.

The sun and song both form one side of me –
The wine and dance the face that makes me free.

The oracle confesses, but who dares
Believe the words, the words he sings, the ignorance
He must confess, you must embrace, the mares
Which lift you up so you can truly dance.

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