The LOO

Lifted up on angels wings,
golden words flow,
tones meld,
voices rise,
music made,

and the beat reverberates,

cold on the nerves,
like a river stream,
silver bodies rub against the mind,
so the song goes,

and the drums beat low,

high on the tide,
emotions run blind,
guided, minded, guarded,
slaughtered,

and the song rolls,

bum da dum,
like rolling hills,
racing like the summer storm,
bursting, thirsting, filling,
drilling deep,
to the end,

oh ooooohhhh the climatic end
never did the words mean so little,
never did they tear so deep,
to the heart of it,
to the craving,
desire,
terror,
lust,

the need,

the black cavern rolls with it,
stary skies in the deep,
its silver and quick and bright
and fleeting

shining in the pregnant dark,
it is cold,
and glittering,
never close,
to close,
behind the eyes it is everything,
to the closed room,
just the beat,
just the hum,
just the bone shaking,
rib rattling,
skin breaking tremor,
nothing more,
but to the blood
God but to the blood it is
it is

confliguration

You want fire!

The rumble of deep drums.

The clash of armies,

the roar of battle and fierce intent,

But I am none of these things.

I am the embers,

the slow warmth,

comfort in the folds of home,

quite joy,

fierce only in duration,

brilliant only in its absolute necessity.

I am a child of the God of the quite home

the joy of a slow smile,

I am a child of the God of growth and renewal

not just swift battle

as intent in fiery moments

I run cold in the bottom of the world

intent on the purpose of the running,

not to bury the world in wild torrents,

to crush as an army crushes,

we run, I run to the rythm of the silent creek,

years in the making,

canyons in the breaking,

winnowing the world down to the common purpose,

the only goal,

the reason for our season and all other things,

Finally God