Awakeing

Endless rain weeps from this fearful sky
A requiem in tear drops
This wind rips through the leaves in whispers of epochs forgotten
on its tumultuous journey to the molten blue horizon
Dull grey these looming unforgiving plooms bare down their lesson on idle ears
Apocalypse exploding in slow emotion

And her silent tears like melancholic raindrops fell

Shattered fragments of an obsolete progress mythology lie in ruin on
the scorched poisoned earth of industrial wasteland in this abandoned modernity project.


In the hearth of this fire a new world is forged
One built of passion rising from the ashes of the old world which
falls in burning rage guided by the light of loves flame reflecting
upon myriad heroic acts
escaping the shadows of injustice
Struggling against the dark flood of fear.
As hope flickers dangerously close to the void,
from this ghetto an urban rhapsody is heard


The fall is no mere prophecy
but unfolding reality
determined insanity
ugly reflection of human vanity
upon the black polished stone
of phalic Babylonia

and the only way I can see
that we can break free
from the mediocrity
of this consumer society
is to see the cracks appear
beneath the veneer of this false prophecy

Since our birth reclaiming Eden was our sin
Now saving the earth from the mega machine
must start from within

and all we need is being content
in any event with the full extent of yourself
and the wealth of existence within,
just by being and being just
and freeing our lust for life
and our heart to the eternal love of the liberation
towards full emancipation
we rise to be kings and queens in the palace of mind
free from fear with no need to hide
simply the light of truth inside
forever in love
eyes open wide

Our story begins and ends in the flutter of eternity's eyelids.
Ecstacy and agony in the secret pulsations of our REM mother.
Histories told then untold, lives lived before she wakes,
evaporating like morning due, transcending skyward as morning breaks.

Birds sing, children laugh, sunbeams quiver through the canopy of leaves,
waves break at the edges of seas. How can the world end if not with
the end of all these.

Unchanging transience has washed over all in its wake, yielding
without melancholy to the new form she takes, but what joy of
mortality the gift of the end, each day is forever as I wake to
transcend.