top of page

The Sword Of Song

that is the blue book turning back time, that is the gold spark turning a black flame inside


out like a ringing in the ears out of the doorway the open closed shutting moment of grey


turning hood shown then the layers of the earth floating like a breaker is jaw for the wood


and round me they move the hand snapping fingers of truth, more true than the common


prayer repeated oft had to the knight, what is it I look at this time, and both hands write


the word in reverse for the fifth seal broken by the soot. WELL i swear it was the sword.


just once repeated turning off the fourth wheel spinning for the light, it is a secret to be


in the cave of theives, one must not speak of the rite, it is the grail of the magi, what it is


to find thyself incomplete holding the square of the moon in the left palm lifted and the


sword held above it like the torch of the statue of liberty, spiraling the stairs made round


for the crown the diadem a spark like sound within from the right ear moving through all


things lucid to the left and back to the right again and to hear it, the match lighting the


diamond flame suspended in the nothingness at the vast expanse of what it is to begin


with nothing and create something from out of the mind the cave from the cave the trees


twas it just by the stream Aiwass, twas it just Ananda, twas it then Alamantrah just to be


the perspective of the mind splitting into reflections of light off the diamonds facets above


the grail and below hands wavering in the emptiness for to find someone, that is to breathe


in the cave the stream it moves like lightning striking beneath the feet of gypsies serpent like


slitheriane minds know nought what time to be truth in reverse and always forward facing


that was the wind just passing by above the precipice, there it was again, the hand, whom


for what, and for when the alignment of thoughts to be written in script, like fire ignites


the words touched by the water, alive, flowing again past all things moving away from me.

Recent Posts

See All

The Hourglass

Point A Needle To The Sky, Centered Minds Point A Gun To My Head, Circumstantial Ends Point A : The Diamond Sutra, Centrifical Forces Yet There Are One Thousand Arms Tied Up In The Book Of The Dead An

T E L L M E

never was there such a hand beneath the sin play to the part of the devil's grinning twas there such a death as to it

Comments


bottom of page