the fabric of life

is transmuting

into something our race

has never encountered before

some next step up

the evolutionary ladder

with the best of us left behind

for something else

there'll be no more linear thought

that's good but then

there'll be deceptive unbalanced emotion

that's not so good

now I know it's a process

to be worked out

a little conscious mastery

to mitigate if not explain all mysteries

and much that could

have carried on and been

vital will be lost in the rush

to imagined transcendence

because people will have yet to learn

there is no perfection to be had

in this conditional reality

regardless of how the conditions are altered

but explaining to any ersatz mystic

the difference between dream and vision

is like trying to enlighten the literal-minded

that selfishness does not rule and mere objects

are of limited benefit

even the crazed admixtures

of rational and irrational will be lost

from what content gives their rituals meaning

totems turned to trinkets

and trinket denoting value

while value wastes away in novelty

the accidents of every clumsy clash of objects

history suffers most

when the do-it-yourself-ers

try to comprehend the incomprehensible

and thus continue the old history

this new condition we seeing being born

around us is about ending history's misery

or so we presume

what would also end history would be

the laying aside of all our notions

and acting in the instants

that will arise in these fresh dispensations

creation as such will not change

but only end when it has fulfilled its term

all this passing of the old and beginning of the new

are only phase changes in what always is

and that will see the passing of all we are familiar with

which goes on every second of our earthly time

and if words go then they go

sad news to me and other writers

but only to aid the ascendency of other talents and gifts

mental abilities heightened

the visual accentuated and underneath it all

music the sound filling all consciousness

with the substance of being

the Word of God and the Music of the Sphere

all One with the singing Morning Stars

always fundamentally present but Its Fullness

not quite apparent yet except in fleeting suggestion

to our senses saddened and weary

but sweet in its sorrow

and happy in its rest

the rustling of this fabric of life

this particular spread never encountered before

but a memory and a set of laws

for those of us yet to come

and those of us returning so we again

go

Content (c) 2008-2011 Philip Milito.