Saturday, April 22, 2017

The Voice


The Voice
I dream of days, I dream of ways
Where I do not have to enter into this incessant wandering
This amassing of graves between worlds of reality and fact
And the realms of reality and truth
These things I have wrestled with since my youth
Seeing the dragons get all the stronger
I still face them though I wander
between the place of courage and of fear
I sit amidst the lovely violets here
Just watching from a distance

I seek a grand but notorious gaze
a Voice that lives amongst blue-green eyes ablaze
These stories wrap around my mind
I cannot grasp such things sublime
Yet grasp them is exactly what I do, I must
Reach deep within to find the vessels of trust
That lead me to my pleasures
These things are so much more than treasures
They are rather more than things
Rather more on angels’ wings
They fly beneath my feet to greet me
All the while I look above while seeking
Those things that cannot be known or seen

I hear the whispers of gentle giants
I feel the tethering of a meek compliance
Knowing I cannot meet these ways
These ways that just lead all astray
Yet promise a sure deliverance
I also cannot yield to happenstance
Nor can anyone else for that difficult matter
For space is nothing but mindless chatter
if it truly had no beginning

I see the red roofs on those distant shores
The winding, writhing tales and lore
which break into my musings
All hair, all skin, all dark accusing
Just bristle in the sunlight
To speak of love so forthright
Is the answer to all these breathings

I cannot come into the forms and worries
Yet I cannot leave them ever since
I yield to the mysteries of unfathomable furies
With not a skip of heartbeats hence

I yield to the mysteries of unfathomable furies
With not a skip of heartbeats hence

So where does this all lead?  So where does this all go?
I think it goes where no one knows
But it does go into the knowing
The place where our listless souls are growing
In the green room of our past neglect
The pictures of our contorted wrecks
are turned into sound and life and beauty 
This happens right before our eyes
We listen and are mesmerized
by things we cannot hear nor see

In the listening I am free

It is in the listening I am free

I hear the Voice

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