As above,
so below.
We reflect
the war in Heaven
in our hearts
and our minds
and our souls.
The song sung
to the dead,
is lost upon the living.
We all bury our pasts
and hope they don’t come crawling.
Never saw
an apparition
like the one
that stole your mind,
just a child
in a garden
and a memory
I can’t find.
I have come
to set the table,
for the feast
is close at hand.
Once the work
is done in fire,
you will understand.
There is no rhyme
or reason
for the pain,
or for the draw,
it’s just a side effect
of what we’re waiting for.
Line by line
the paths converge,
the sign is set,
the day reserved,
the light is lit
the candle on the wall
dances.
Every song becomes
a funeral dirge,
crescendo reaching resurrection
fire burns
and the tree restored.
Hunger fills the belly.
Rocks crawl back
to the mountain
and we slumber,
eyes open
when the trumpet sounds.
As above,
so below.
what’s finished
is just beginning.
The sky
becomes the anchor
for the soul.
HG – 2017
