posted in: Poems 2014 | 0

The earth was dreaming about a moon not yet
born, when I entered its dream as a ghost
with the moon in my eyes in silhouette
held by the creator who joins me to toast
the birth of a new moon that dreams of a
sun collapsing. The earth, moon and sun dream
in unison giving me form, I whistle
forever sounds of fire dying, embers teem,
welding an impulse within the progeny.
Paintings and compositions allude in
multitude to resurrection. Adroitly
the creator completes his masterpiece, herein
a man on a cross. I will bring my progeny
to fruition and amend an impulse eternally.

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