Abacus Breaking
All of myself is exuding life,
I feel the force of nature’s abacus breaking,
A flaming fate is shifting in the stars,
To which I belong and all belong, and each belongs.
The night arrives in waves and shadows,
and the cry of birds,
and the hum of nature humming with noises of men
and the night, and the epitome of silence in a descending dome,
covers all in the grasp of stillness.
Here I am- alone, swallowing deep gulps of air,
Through my nostrils and into the lungs of all,
For all are alone, and all together,
and all in rhythmic trance sustaining one another.
Youth- I am, the catalyst- I am, the fire of time- I am,
I am, and all are as we pass between,
Youth burning and hopeful,
Blindly coiling upon the necks of passers by,
To everyone, asking, seeking, furthering,
Interrupting speech with a sinister jargon of song
Awakening, in strong pulses, in rolling waves,
the heart to rise intoxicated into the hearts of all
Into the universal hearts of all,
Into the millions of souls of all,
Tasting, feeling, being, all.
Do not endow me with the feelings of sympathy,
Give me the juice of freedom and strength,
Give me the calm of imperishable silence,
Give my lips taste of immortal breath,
Yet make me with crude mortality,
and humanness and death.
A flaming fate is shifting in the stars,
To which I belong and all belong, and each belongs.
In a labyrinth of streets and empty coffee stalls,
Here are the memories of paved roads and burnt throats and a hand about the waist,
Music that wanders the nervous system a cold rain through a steaming vent
Here a gardener’s cry as he finds his garden uprooted.
Here and there and everywhere earnest, serious musings and a cold face turned upon.
Three times shifting is the scavenger-raven of boredom,
Three times shifting is the answer to all questions,
Trinity in the ashes of a lightning strike
and suddenly intuition sprouts bright young leaves.
In the blue creases of a white horizon is the beckoning of a day without pattern,
On the white creases of unwrinkled shirts, stained with the thought of blood
Stained at the site of death, stained at the start of life, in these shirts swaddled, caressed ,
Babes, and young men, and old men circling, circling,
Arriving tridents shot through the air whistling noise of death spell,
And life’s bell, and life again, and life above and life transformed, transcending.
I feel the force of nature’s abacus breaking.
Come morning, swiftly, and in the pool,
in cool and secret darkness, in the mud a seed.
The lotus flower, lying veiled, an eternal thought, a huge possibility.
Spark plug of eternity, revolution, carved inside the genes of a million men.
The day passes quickly and the sun surges forwards curving,
Shedding ray upon man and woman turning them golden.
They seeking shelter of ignorances and pasts,
Featuring the birthmarks of god,
Each heavy step homewards purging,
Stagnation, blindness, senility are these heavy masses of atoms.
But a flaming fate is shifting in the stars,
To which I belong and all belong, and each belongs.
Star dust, star fire, star burst, evening in a solemn swoop.
The call of eternity circling the atmosphere,
And daytime again in the freedom cry escaping the heart of a madman.
On a cracked rear view mirror the world disappears,
the past engulfed in its own reflection,
The past non existent, the past forgotten.
Now is the traffic, all round,
of creatures, of voices, of polluted thoughts,
distilling themselves in movement,
Joining, recombining, mutating, a giant organ of life.
Each voice to me familiar, each voice to me is mine,
Each limb to me connected, each thought a vortex of my mind.
Electrified the soul fevers and burns,
Down, down to the waters,
Down to the grey mother of creation,
Her silken gown wraps me,
Rolls against me, rises through me,
The ocean heals all wounds,
Soothes the swooning soul.
The churn of the surf whips a fog song,
Sound that seeps through muscle and marrow,
Nature renewing, nature restoring
Transporting me to the shores of towns,
to the crowded wharves of cities,
to the icy bays of uninhabited continents.
Fog dying, song ending, and another begins,
Calling softly, in rippling rivulets of sound-
Dripping, naked up the sand,
I am led by the throbbing laughter of children
up the path, past the blue gate.
Into the garden. No children,
Only their laughter. No children,
only the thumping of little hearts.
There between the trees and the soft grass,
I lie and become a child, laughing,
laughter that is sweeter than the
Freshly torn honeycomb.
The universe centers round me like a lathe
The rhythm catches me on the upbeat,
Tendrils reach out to touch my soul,
As the night rears up,
I feel once more the force,
Every living creature’s force,
Creeping through me again.
The stars become once more the
puppeteers of fate,
A comet sails across the sky
and a fire reborn, replenished fills my being.
An undulating fever rushes through me,
Up through my veins, up saturating my blood,
my lymph, stretching each nerve to tautness.
Embracing with grasp unholy and inhuman,
The swirling step, drunk with the
bitterness of love, blinded by
the sweetness of familiarity,
I lapse my spirit into the infinity of spirits.
Youth -I am,
the burning cycle in me inevitable
Turning the ages, with that supple power,
I feed my hunger, with uplifting desires.
All of myself is exuding life,
I feel with the nakedness of the soul,
Each creatures I in me to rise,
To streak and burn across the sky.
A flaming fate is shifting in the stars,
To which I belong and all belong, and each belongs.
