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WONDERING WHERE IT LANDED
a brief
poetic essay on it.
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Shots were fired, and a hand fell lifeless on the ground. A handful of lifeless ground? Man is dirt, and science says that everything in a man is in the dirt beneath his feet. Beyond the dirt is the water which the dirt drinks to make the life seep forth. Many ships set sail as a convoy, finding friendship in the sea. The enemy was to be encountered in due time. In due time light shined so that mere mortals can find what's right if they're looking. It was all seen by the Programmer, lines of binary which constructed the whole of time and space and dimension alive in his mind.
I see this line and my mind rewinds
a brief and breathy blessing by the signs.
Worship is healthy and right.
Maybe it is done with hands and the mouth
as they say in a church that tells you how.
But they can't tell me I haven't praised today...
my hands are moving and not staying in one place anyway.
Making something that tells in a tone of black and gray
typing things on DOS that I won't learn until yesterday.
Is there anything to be gained in leaving words by the way
when worship is where you say what you have to say
unaffraid. Believing you are saying it in such a way
as to affect a change or a consideration without jerking chains.
But it will offend mere men when I put it to the pen
that when you look at what you are standing on
planet or porch or platform or pride...
It came from somewhere and some idea somewhen.
And some why.
and that's easy to say but impossible to disprove for long.
Nothing is chance and if I ever said it was I lied.
This screen of color crystals, little hellians
making things on computer screens and televisons...
sets of mystical thistles spliced into patterns for men
by men for camera lens and the progress of technology
as it will be then...
sticking spines into the membrane of society
mystical machines and chimes of the times
like broken splines in the underside
broken components alone are our hope and it's a stone age bone that doubles as a cell phone.
We work in words as we go up to the throne and offer our own sacrificial goat or lamb
with a steady hand on a sacrificial alter made of sacred stones that rolled off of the mountain through the sand
when Moses stood barefoot shouting at something unseen speaking and shaking and learning.
The name came screaming from the ultimate being in an enduring aching bush that kept on burning.
It was when he took off his shoes that he proved his praise and paid his due to the great Guess Who.
It was not putting them over his head that moved the Lord to smile kindly on this murderous Moses.
He moved them low and humility was his heart and his staff was the ally that no curse could possess.
What else could he do in the face of the one that created the bush, the fire, and Moses too?
Through this we knew
Through words from
Something true
Something someone
A name I am.
This is my faith now and less won't do.
You and I on holy ground take off your shoes.
I'll wear yours for a day when this is over
Mine don't have the polish though i wipe them another
Bless this and let me be the father
I shouldn't be and no more than a lover
We should take off our shoes and wash the feet of each other.
As for me...
I feel the pull
Back to the real world
Sometimes things happen
People stick out
Like a green form in a half run out
black and white photograph.
I follow and something leads.
I make my mark and my heart plants seeds
I take my part and the art does the rest as my finger bleeds.
It will dry and I will remember
One day why I waited at that place for that extra moment
which lasts forever.
Who knows where you land when you fire the arrow of worship
And it is blessed and the rest is up to what comes from my lips
Innitiative is the key word
If you don't take anything I said at least you heard
Go forward with compassion, Ethan
Do whatever you can to take it slow even
if you don't know when you'll get there or where your river will flow
Speak life as you find them, and don't let anyone go.
