Lo and behold - it’s really you, my Lord!
As I am spitting in the wind, you - blood.
Speech failed me – I weighed word for word
to weasel out of mincing them to clot
in single syllable. When world is shut,
my mind starts playing tricks on me – I miss,
heart skips a beat. A miss’s as good as - mile.
The fingers – forging calm to reminisce,
while plugging ears - mind's eyes get versatile
in choosing apple, waning into rut,
and they are more than candy. Falling scales…
The flesh and bones - leftovers after all,
but life is swarming plenty in details –
so much to live and be too close to call,
so much to learn – how bring the time to heel.
I call a spade a spade and wisdom’s bluff –
to share with providence my only chance
to choose between its sealed cry and laugh
with moving lips despite of decadence.
I purify my soul from hell - and heal,
the world seems – amaranth in blinks of eye,
an old head on young shoulders – cold as sense,
this is the place to flourish and to die.
Oh, Madam Death – it’s always lady’s dance,
how many times you have to justify
your futile kiss, your holding steady grip
and lay the blame on “in the name of Love”.
Again this painlessness and body-strip,
and Holy Spirit – flapping wings in dove.
The Truth revives while being crucified.
Lo and behold -
it’s really you –
enlight!

22 September 2008