In the dawn light
On a black beach
waiting the white
of the eye of the Sun,
I seek the sparse
sprawl of the tundra;
mind of my multiple Self.
Waiting for the hand over hand
Thought of their wanting
Cease
And the chains stop a jingling.
What of them?
They still the seed of Cain
A-sweeping the road away
from Damascus?
The people’s sleeping minds
stretch to my throat and mouth
All as one seeking to imbue me
With the stuff of darkness.
Our Father – their pitying cry
Would communise I
Comes crooning to me
From land
Out of the sea.
But I have the Key
It lies in the bank
of the physical state
‘Neath the lesser
More hallowed emotions
commencing their God.
Lies ugly cripple
Disguised
by the welter of silk bright parable
Magnet of adoration.
Yet I listen
They remind me
the stretch of my hand
Is radii sweeping
Both Earth and the Aether
Our Father
and the androgynous Sons of Light.
Mine Quick Voice of Aquarius 