Dear Universe [poem]
Dear Universe, are you now mocking me by
thrusting forth a form before my failing eyes
that you already knew would mesmerise me as
the long envisioned countenance to galvanise
my dormant seeds reluctantly to spring to life
and turn from dark to light the course which
they had taken for perhaps 1000 years before
(or maybe you are testing out my readiness)
[I’ve watched with in ter est the sparkling trail]
but yet would now sprout leaves to no avail?
Dear Universe, I might have thought the timing
here is out… but I know better than to waddle
down that twisted road of wavering and doubt
within (I dream of when at night I shed my skin
like butterflies and snakes) [that’s all it takes to
change the present self to what we manifested
long ago. We (so ignorant of life) think death is
tragedy (for ego is as ego does) then dress in
black & wear our sackcloth, ashes (metaphors)
when cause of death is merely changing trains,
exchanging craziness 4 other worlds more sane.
Dear Universe, forgive me for I just digressed
with talk of deathly things when I should rather
nightingalely sing to you of how that form you
passed with brevity before my darkening eyes
to tease me (seeing whether I be wise enough
to gaze upon its splendour with my soul instead
of just my prick) has an aura made of untold lies
which never will be told (about how young I am)
and with my secret tongue which no one sees
I licked her shiny soul and wonder to this day if
she has felt me there; for where the juices are
is where I soonly long to lay [& so I say a prayer].
.
.
© Alan Morrison, 2016
The Naked Troubadour 