The Grand Conjunction

 

What has been given

can never be take back.

That raw experience,

slow fed,

then come the deluge.

Never washing away the indelible;

once made,

the mark remains.

One of the unintended consequences

of free will,

of real magik.

 

Thought that we were just

a game of fun,

but it turns out everything

is connected

to everything else.

Like walking across a spider’s web,

every vibration,

intonation,

intimation,

is a word in an incantation,

or evocation.

 

Now,

see what we have wrought.

The evidence is all around us.

Not every prayer is spoken,

for words are the currency,

but actions are their basis.

The gold standard;

swing the hammer,

ring the bell,

and see the reverberations,

echo out like a blast wave.

 

Little did we know

that our words

describe the world

and change the universe.

Come down to one moment,

stretched infinite through time.

A breath,

caught in the throat

of the creator.

 

We slip for a second

past this instant,

and into the timeless integers,

the unmeasured,

the eternal realm.

And just like that,

the beat is counting

once again,

and we don’t know

how long we’ve been gone.

There is no substitute

for experience.

 

The life lies sacred,

for some reason or other.

The breath,

and the blood,

some critical, cosmic catalyst.

Eyes of white,

gaze in their prescribed spectrum

to perceive the light,

and know,

we have been experienced.

 

 

HG – 2020

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