At-one-ment (4 20Eighteen)

En the year of the Heretic*
En the year of Ganga’s Descent
En the year of the Wolf-Skin

At-one-ment beckons

Keep still!

Keep still
And you are bound 2 feel
(At the base of your spine
Where Sri Ganesh lies content)
Her sharp, pitch-black claws

Keep Still!

Keep still
And you are bound 2 hear
(From the Kingdom of God within)
Her impassionate cry
Her sound unstruck

En the year of the Grazing Whyte Buffalo
En the year of the New Bloodfat Moon
En the year of the Gateman’s Sable Chapeau

Take heed
And do not tarry

Cords of silver
Wings of gold

Need not be wary
Need not carry
The weight of worlds that arrive b’fore them

Do as u were told!

Do what is best 4 your garten
Do what is best 4 your soul

Rid your throat of obstructions
Rid your raiment of desecrations
Rid your boot heels of holes

[Our Lady Of Loreto Aside.]
Stop leaking! Stop leaking faith!
Stop leaking what has been gratuitously bestowed!
Stop leaking light! Stop leaking grace!

And sing that refrain which is closest 2 your heart,

There is only Brahman
There is only The Transcendent

There is only Becoming
There is only The Absolute

There is only Consciousness
There is only The Highest Good

There is only
The Divine

* Not what the proponents of scarcity want you to think;
Therefore, put away your dogma
And break your chains at their weakest link.

© The Herder 20Eighteen


What If? / Prologue

Their voices clear
Their presuppositions, strong & persuasive

So much so, eye consider the argument of the Realists
And its journalistic appeal

Put away the tripe!
Put away these enfantile notions,
Your dreams crowding the nite
W/ star-fill’d oceans & elephants trampling skyes underfoot

You wore the cynic’s coat once
(You looked good en it too!)

Why not wear it now?
Why not button the collar
& travel darker 2 appear deeper?

Embrace the mediocrity o’ the times,
We beseech you (we really do),
& suppress your soul’s need 2 holler

Put away your rice bowl
(4 grace, the world does not hunger)

Put away your mala & reeds of sandalwood
(The world has it en 4 itself)

Nev’r again will it find its way 2 the Well
Nev’r again will it stoop so low
Nev’r again will it thirst 4 love

This is the very argument eye consider &
This is the very argument eye unabashedly reject

No dread paid 2 the left flank of shades
(Swords drawn, helms down!)

Ah, my counter 2 the case laid out b’fore me

Eye’m afraid we’ll need more than a fresh coat of paint,
A spotless sail w/ gilded seams, & a sturdy new mast
If we are going 2 find our way back 2 the Well

Eye’m afraid we’ll haveta be brazen
Eye’m afraid we’ll haveta do ALL the heavy lifting
2 break the spell of scarcity’s dogma

Eye’m afraid we’ll haveta be unthought &
Postulate a WHAT IF?

So, atop Love’s throne,
Eye will hold my own &
Count one hundred, eight lotus beads

& as the olde ways have grown olde & cease 2 serve us well,
Eye will seat at the Rajah’s table new verses, new metaphors,
New apologetics, & new gods

So, get ready 2 stoop

Get ready 2 see Brahman en the eyes of your Brothers
Get ready 2 taste Ambro-sia on the lips of your Wives &
On the rosy cheeks of your Sisters & Mothers

Get ready 2 channel the radiance of
Ev’ry Dharma Saint & Christian Angel

Get ready 2 hold your own

© LogosVox 2014