Eagle and Snake

Sapping my strength, it

Sucks the soul from me. I can’t

Pin it down, but I

Am made lesser, I

Have my peace stolen. Trembling,

I ask the ether

What it wants from me.

Why I must endure this loss.

Forty-one, vampire.

Those who wait upon

The Lord will renew their strength.

Rise like an eagle.

Betwixt and Between

“It doesn’t matter,

But I’m telling you so you

Know.” Education

For me consists of

Polarity. If there is

A fact that I know

It is frivolous.

If I don’t know it, it is

Essential. If I

Answered the question,

They wanted it in different

Units. There was a

Typo. Twenty two

Catches snare me and I am

Broken. I cannot

Stand divided, I

Can be only one thing. I

Will tell my own truth.

No Martyr

Once did a young man

Declare that the tragedy

Of the world was

Wrong, and that he would

Fix it. Did he believe in

Himself? Sometimes. But

Not often. He had

Imbibed and lived a creed in

Which to be crushed by

The machine was a

Victory, representing

The end to the war.

Eventually he

Became a doctor and found

Himself a clockwork.

Would he spend his life

And his substance to turn back

The hands for one more

Moment? He wasn’t

That good, to die in service

Of a lost cause. He

Was selfish enough

To want a purpose for his

Life and work, to write

His name in the stars,

To stop the clock forever.

No martyr would he

Be. He would not burn

On another’s pyre. He

Would steal the sun from

The sky and hide it

In his pocket, to peep at

When he was idle.

The Time Portal

I had spent many years journeying to find a gateway to another time and place. I found it in the Hudson Valley, in 2016.

When I climbed aboard their craft, I found the veil of time was torn. I could see backward through when many cultures met at these rivers shores. Natives, servants, slaves, squires, all met and danced as one. We danced to show our spirits free, that no one could ever stop us or hold us back.

I was the rainmaker, the one who brought the boon back to his grateful people. In terms of fertility, I thought I’d run my course. My wife was pregnant with our second child. But when I danced in this mysterious land, I jumped so high, I got myself a third kid the following year. No birth control could hold that Calvin back.

Fire raced above my head, curling the hairs on my forearms. Music I had never heard before stirred my heart, and I sang and rejoiced. I hope one day I can return, but I know it lives in me.

The Wound

The beginning wasn’t a beginning, it was an ending; just an endless circle. It was complete, nothing needed to happen.

Something did happen. What was it, the moment in the everything, the potential, that kicked over, infinite space, folded in on itself, creating a change, beginning time?

Time began when space was divisible into “is”and “is not.” Was it a sin, or a delusion, or an illusion? They’re all the same.

Needless to say, it hurt. We still hear that scream every day, every night, throughout eternity. In our head, it’s a high pitched whine, around 1600 Hz. It’s the sound of time, of incompleteness, of an aching need for something that we can’t even name.

We think we’ll find something to salve this burn, but we never do. It just festers and rots. Then we think that if we find another who hurts like we do, it won’t hurt so bad. But ultimately, there have never been any like us, so we go on limping, alone.

Still we hope. We search. We inquire. We persist. One day we’ll find him, or her, or them, and we’ll all speak our truth to each other, and we’ll have found the words that bring us back into our circle. We’ll be one again.

Time will cease, and we’ll rotate on our axis, harmonious and lovely, we’ll orbit.