Birds, and every other winged creature
glean what they can
Whether from worms in the dirt
or the entire sea of man
The worms cower in multitudes
before the height of their upright plans
Therefore, keeping true to inspiration
the ones who penned and envisioned
in watchtower and in prison
without giving way to death
direct their gaze intently
under this trialsome age
far past Gehenna’s turbulence
As a minefield is a place
One dearly dreads to risk
Their feet travel in every direction but the sunrise
As smoke from Rome went deep into the East
There was an inscription meant for all
“Stand firm” it said, in lily gaze text.
But by velocity snared
The ruthless screams of care
By vehemence, by bloodletting,
by sharpness of dead wicked razor
I succumbed before the anatomy of the clouds
(There was a wrongness in the clouds in later days)
Caught up in those clouds, caught up
in the aimlessness of fascinating radiance
I succumbed to the spiraling gate
Behold!
A dark path
where a pyre ends
hellacious and unspeakable
It is the realization of a dubious knowledge
The piecing together of a mosaic
Madness and the burning dragon
The flawed mystery within the night-sky
Finished now towards knowing
Like the resurrection of lizard bones
scattered across every desert
(the roots of suffering go deep)
I have survived, and I will oppose
That aimless ghost, that wanderer
On the road without prayer
Whose gaze of iron eyes are spears
Veritas est ipsa, truth banishes.
–J. S.
