GODSPEED

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the poem begins...

I hold in the auburn sunset of a limitless wandering light, feeling the underbelly,

decorating the grey clouds,

now candy coloured floss flickering with a fire of a thousand wonders,

Somewhere in the elixir of light and nostalgia,

the shadows lurk waiting for night,

for the symphony of shadows to play on the starlight,

bringing the far near in the distant echoes of light calibrated in the twinkling starlight,

somewhere beneath this scene I fall into the deep glow of the fireplace, dancing with the shadows, as if it were an old friend,

I held by this warmth, look out onto the snowy evening, growing its blanket of snow, looking at the glow radiating from out the windows onto the patch of slow light dancing slowly on the quickening pace of falling snow, illuminating the flakes of snow, absorbed in its precipitous destiny.

Falling beneath the haze of shallow drawn carriages, I sit with Apollo who visits me on gloomy evenings to chant some bore about the purpose of day, and not to become too nocturnal, he is so invested in it I am sure he must draw some power of it,

I wave my hand and he vanishes, the Gods submitting to my pleasure and intent, now at my beck and call you see,

since the cosmic power flows through me.

When I was younger I fear my mother had some candies in a bag filled with something that looked like sticks of wood, but mistaking this for some candy because it was chewy I ate and found myself in a trance.

This precise moment the precise moment is left unknown when I became a god, but I decided to become a good God and build good in me. 

I have no tolerance for vanity, or arrogance.  You are probably stating and quite rightfully that I had no right to become a God, I do apologize...perhaps it was the magic mushrooms, perhaps it was the way the light would flow like a serpent out of the shadows, maybe it was the alien way the wind would speak to me and how rain would outside the cottage make music for me, in the most arcane way.

Either way I dare not deceive you any longer, I am more a herald of the Gods than a God.

I call on young Aphrodite to dance, she dances for me I look into the camera asking for some privacy, and then I wake up.

Perhaps, If you did not press me to atone for my Godless assertion, of being a God, I may still be there... perhaps to the dirt and chemicals so built upon the automata of Nature, I am as if a God had you ever thought of that?  I may have had Aphrodite this blessed beauty dance for me some more, perhaps having given birth to a demigod, I could finally have kids. Eternity in the hourglass, infinity in a dream.

Don't blame me for that rich compost of Myth plays attribution in my mind, siphoning the night light from the poorest contest of my lonely life's listless lingering, I hold out you see for the time I spend with the Gods if even just a fantasy is within me where Valhalla and Olympus reign where Ahura Mazda and every variety of the divine tells me their stories, sometimes I am listlessly drawn away from the competition of their seeking, and I sit with buddha pointing at the worms under the ground, and saying find peace first, and I dance with the God's serious splendour.  And then in the moment of dread I always wake up, somewhat less a God, less a Man, more a feature of a living disappointment.  Is this the power of Myth?  I wonder what Joseph Campbell would say? I wish I could speed up time to sleep and only sleep, that is my enlightenment, but in learned fashion, I say to this dying part of me, every day is as if a dream...wake up!

For every day is a new dream.

Godspeed.