there's no cheap easy mysticism
going on here...no bedroom visionary jerking off...
the fact of creation can only be
a smudge blurring the true workings
between our dim eyes and deaf ears...
let the scientist proclaim the processes of the universe
as refuting the existence of the very power that propels them...
and let the poet and the dreamer hide in their
childish wounds in a sob to an Eternal Father...
pray to God or acknowledge the black hole...
whether you call it the Lord...or Big Bang...or quasar or
ashtray or jack handle or lamplight
you bow before the very same Mystery
that animates all Life....
Content (c) 2008-2013 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
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