Monday, December 25, 2006

The Moon's Dreams

The moon dreams
On its course
Across the unending night:
The moon dreams
Your dreams
Until the dream
Is real.

The moon’s dreaming
The shadowy contours
Of your life;
The moon’s beams
The dark night
Of your soul.

Billions of years now
Since the big bang
Of this kalpa,
With eons of entropy
Between us and the source,
The tectonic forces of the One and the many
Have been rubbing together since the start
Forming a massive range of obstacles.

The heat from that initial moment
Dispersed, we now find ourselves
Clinging, to a fragile balance
On an inconsequential planet
The third orbit around a minor fireball
Itself revolving
At a slow pace
On an outward arm
Of a mediocre galaxy
Billions of light years
Away from the center.

Only in the last blink
Of a galactic eye
Have we begun to sprout
From an unfathomable gestation period,
And we have barely taken root
In the ground of our being.

The path home gets steeper, with more switchbacks
As the peaks rise from this elemental clash.
And at such an altitude, the light of the cosmic sun
Has trouble melting away
The frozen sediment
Settled over the original ground.
Given the perpetuity
Of this ancient,
Chilling truth
Only a little fluid
Is released during each thaw.
Our shallow roots,
Unstable in the sparse soil
Of this godforsaken region
Add just a thin ring of growth each season.

Never before seen in the light of day
Phantasmic forms appear in the dark
Like crop circles in a formless field of possibility
The proving ground for evolving strains:
The gravitational pull of the moon
Draws out our precious awareness
Into the nether regions
Where no one has yet to look—culminating
In the next generation of the species
A neverending drama of succeeding acts
A distended dispersal of what had previously been collected
Galloping towards an unremarkable finale—
Such is the fulfillment of the many.

But to flow with the tectonic tempo of unity
Requires a backwards step
Back through the heart of our sun
Sequentially backwards through cosmic events
A devolution through prior stages of being.

You need to swallow the whole moon
Reduce its far-flung orbit
To the very center of your being
Wax and wane in accordance with conditions
And make its dreams your reality.
Take in its full weight,
Accept the gravity of all past deeds,
Even those by creatures with webbed feet and fangs,
When your bio-plasma was barely cellular
And your soul was formed of a more rarefied awareness.

This dark night of the soul
Culminates in a dense magnetic core
Composed of alchemical elements
Congealed by agents of the moon.
A singular emptiness
Like the black hole at the heart of each galaxy
Draws everything back to one:
An otherwordly cosmic vacuum
Filling the bowels of intergalactic wormholes
Connecting your very being with all space and time.

Darkly illuminated
The whole body invisibly lit up with no remainder
The branching streams flow out into the empty expanse, unseen:
No blooming, no culmination, no moments, nothing more—
And yet, even still, the countless stars appear
In every twinkling reflection
Of your deep-set eyes.