Friday, April 27, 2012


On my belly I slithered forth
Naked Inching my way through a
Cavernous despair And when I cried, "Have mercy, Father!"
My echoes, heavy footed, trodded toward me;
A preoccupied mother
That could only enable my fear

Mediocre splinters of the Divine
Trickled down like liquid jewels
At indistinct moments
That ebbed in and out of Time


Screamed thunder, believing
That the stones would rupture
Pile on top of me
if I must be where the pieces fall
Long as I could catch a glimpse of
This fabled Love

But the brevity of cold sleeping always
That these were not moments
But dreams

My eyes opened to blindness
And I lurched on
With only wet wounds
Speaking in Agony's tongue
To tell me the secrets of a strong and thriving Heart
"Listen closely," they say
"Between each beat
The mind gently chants,
'The voice of the Father
Is a dream'"