Theatre for god

A vantage point appears.
Sweet retrograded development.
The circle of a life, returning to where it came.
Return to shed some skin.
Dispose a sin that was trapped like a bird in a cage.
These lungs are full of alpine air.
Yet the breath is that of god.
With eyes that shine with a light of a creator.
Marvelling at his own work.
To motion an intent, is to peel back the curtain.
To slip inside the mind, is to speak another truth.
Barefoot and broken, weathered and open.
The state does not matter, for the audience can no longer see.
All this is for God, and sweet mother earth.
Rumbling in a third act that threatens a resolve.
But let us speak not of happy endings or peace.
The story is still unwritten. And the parts have yet to be filled.
What is known of the end, is that it starts a new beginning.
For we live to hear the sound of god’s applause.

Second sight

Going towards the resolve, the 20/20 equaling higher.
A Fissure in my memory, wraps around the stillness.
I allow the world to hum and clatter around me.
All in its beautiful chaotic busyness.
Your X-rays burn through, avoiding the heart and preventing the cancer.
This realness drifts up towards heaven.
You cherish it all, pulling it close to smell the stench of love.
We are everything.
This blindness no longer fits me, like all of these clothes we shed.
Cast like tears in space.
Swimming in ignorance makes me long for bliss.
Thank god for you. Your bones and skin.
This place where your feet touch the ground is now sacred.
Where you breathe is where I take a picture.
You heart I steal as a souvenir.
Still like the frosted birds and the rocks we climbed upon.
The sand where we walk each year, burying time like a box of treasure.
Refracting in your presence, I see your glory in my second sight.
Your cat eyes shimmer, as I count your nine lives.
Trying to keep up.
As your eyes set sail for the horizon.
Anchoring us to the future.
Blinking away the memory of pain forever.

F(l)inch

The air is alive, black on blue.
A multitude of ravens, seizing the world.
Magpie eyes on anything that shimmers.
You unfurl and follow. Placing the ties that bind.
Half asleep, half blind to predicament.
But something murmurs. Something calls.
An unfinished business that followed from before.
Each step, eyes down.
Stepping out from a dream, feeling the floor.
A product of now, naked and true.
Let the feathers unfold, and roll into a climb.
Un-flinch. SkyWest. Un-crooked.
Drop the grey.
The waiting in line.
And sing, distant and near.
A song so many wish to know sincere.
Eyes closed, breathing in the new air.
And let your colours paint the sky.
Wiping across a new dawn.
And darkening their sheltered lives.

The World Beneath

Hold your breath. Count to ten.
Join the depths of the world beneath.
An inversed galaxy that never ends.
With lotus flower eyes you can see if you listen.
The aquatic hum of a sight leagues beneath your bones.
You are the octopus that crawled back to the sea.
The Sinking ship which will haunt the ocean floor.
Poseidon blood tingles in your veins as you descend.
To the world beneath, the silent watery grave where the weeds dance.
Each wave washes away your grey.
And every day your Atlantis awaits.