It Will Rain Loaves

Catch the mystic by its toes, there’s pulse beneath pain. Enchant smooth stone and carve your line, baseless infinite purity.

I cross blades of breath in depth, I swim waves of mystic bubble.

Go call on your science fiction, let me buzz in psychic space.

Crumble all your crusts of bread, let the bones dance again.

CRUMBLE ALL YOUR CRUSTS OF BREAD, SO THE BONES GO ON AGAIN.

Nameless saints can touch the light, will all beads be dropped again?

Will the jars be kept away?

Are you sure we feel the same?

Do our hearts contract the same?

Our minds will grieve again, the loss of souls around.

Oh I have kissed the sparks of air.

Is strangeness seeing what isn’t there?

The being parade and flood the earth, above they stomp; exalting the very thing you’ve cursed.

Here goes the song on my skin, the touch of Life and I listen on.

The trumpet has blown and so we rise.

I will walk with you, just hold me.

I fly enveloped in your arms.

I dissipate in The Outstretched hands.

I die to be reborn a wave of pulse.

I am carved to be seen in layers.

I fold to return to womb.

Carry on with the outside lens, watch its mirror blur. Soon you run up vanishing steps to fall back into yourself. Beaks of birds hum your sound, the real world lies inside.

Deep and vast, Dhamma ploughs.

Heaving platitudes of doubt but magic pixelates around me.

Cloaked in disappearing rays, the clouds I poke through.

Cloaked in magnitudes beyond words, the veils I see through.

Shell shocked trembling hands, announce bare Truth.

Auspicious presence preludes my next step.

My next move in stillness folds.

My next body is one inhale away.

I See, I Feel.

Jousts of visions buzzing through, muddy feet in blessings of rain.

I am cracked at the moulding seed, lying flat in the operation theatre.

The Yods move in artistry,

I weep with grace.

Azur is alive again.

My breath is saved again.

Not done, not finished, not done.

My projection accelerated, this is not about leeches, this is about Us.

Pseudo forces all around us,

Is strangeness feeling what isn’t there?

I stretch my hands.