Poem: Prophetic

 

Prophetic

 

such unwanted weather.

i became the crossroads

in a quandary of winds

which carved me out like a trench.

parched scorpions and rattlesnakes of 

thorns roamed fast among

the freshest, most vivid lilies and 

begonias while fossils scraped my naked soles,

imparting a rune of whys.

 

i pitied the gods,

had the stamina to wrestle

the most implacable of angels.

power lost its daring and thrill,

eager and able to forfeit the game.

those addictions and fixations and dysfunctions 

which kept the players 

rolling their stones up and down and around 

and back and forth again to all sides became, for me,

such a sparse opiate. 

looking down

through my fleeting omniscience,

immersed in a sweet flood of bliss,

such cherished nanoseconds,

i saw love and beauty and care

in such a way that their flaws avoided failure.

i saw pure tears whose glint lit moral candles,

these the only light within paradoxes 

whose only approach, many sages thought,

could never be complete.

it became clear to me, just then,

that the rest was mere assemblages of unfolding, 

foggy, flighty math, a turnstile of sad-happy and 

fickle equations which fed the Before and the After:

those vast, troubled oceans, so hungry,

on either side.

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10/27/25 unimaginably large number of edits