June 23, 2010

Fire Wheel of Fortune

Standing at the edge he sees the sun
often in the dead of night the sky opens up
and out flows the grand essence of peace
will the stars fall in the correct order or will
the chaos prevail and the sylphs come home?
all the sun can do is shine and follow the path
where the chariot awaits and careens across
the night flowing and fixing to create rapture
and joy - the bright light dazzles the eyes and sends
him into the stratosphere dancing with the clouds
and singing with the constellations - all will end in
the blast of never ending explosions of free will
and choice - in the morning after the freedom
he sits and rests while his spirit catapults itself
always seeing all that it can see and living all
that it can live - so he hesitates and looks again
at the sun then down to the abyss where creatures
wondrous light and mercy await his decision
one foot slowly creeps its way over the edge
his hands are shaking and his breath quickens
across from him the mountains loom large
and full of mystery where blue and gold shine
as the fiery stature ebbs and falls into a white
web where the pregnant spider all but shatters the
sky with its beauty and grace - in the meantime
his spirit grows cool and soon he begins to shake
and tremble - he has never felt sorrow like
he does now weeping into his hands as the wind
takes hold of his hands as they continue to relive
the terrible fright of the creatures down below
but all is not lost as the time for sudden peace
will shine its head into great fireworks bursting
forever in the dead of the morning - at last he takes
flight and sails past the fiery mountains and flows
deliciously through the clouds forever in prayer
and safety yet always out of control - will the flying
of the birds continue his search as the chosen one
who breathes and hiccups bubbles of cause
and effect where soon the light of the personable
and the way of security will singe the paper wings
as the terrible hills beyond hills always tied to
the end of the string - "sing once again and use
your breath to steal the pins and needles as
if you will never come home" says the salamander
as he floats into a circle and spins and whirls
a wicked top out of control brings the notion
of failure crying and warping the instrument
of togetherness where the sun will once again
rise and fill the coffers with berry juice staining
the hair and coat of the chosen one as he
enters into the ride of his life - a ride so full of
passion that red turns to white

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