Mantra To A Fallen Earth

Incandescent, we prompt flight
rising like talon bearing kestrels
keen eyes and empty stomachs spur us on
through a bleak sun we watch the earth engorge
oceans blanketing the wastelands in azure coverings,
land so dark and barren clinging to borders
visible rivers like veins on a sickly child coaxed to movement by high peaks
fallen cities spread their blackening death across acres of trees and red soil.

Rain hastens
The thick drops fall spilling
subdued on dark saffron earth
Blood peels, gentle and beautiful
Roots of the deodar's race forward
Craving this divine blood, so coloured and fragrant

[The thirst of trees is quenched under its frayed veins]

Renewed, we continue
Following the darkness of shadows
Shards of lightning collect under clouds scattering the earth with fire
Punishing rain rolls into the winds might
Fields turn to cemeteries
Burnt trees collapse
Violence in all its fury remains unchallenged
Silence reigns. A silence that is holy

An earth washed pure, sacrificed and subdued, peers forth
As the oceans rage.

These clouds are a comforting rest,
driven to patterns in which even I am lost
heaven above sheds its melodies,
harps and the suffering saints alight
angels wings and ghostly whispers shudder and shake me in my poise
my eyes redden in this glow
orchards of wise fruit and rivers of wine lay dormant
weeds of discontent reach through the gates and surrender
curled and dry under brilliant light.

I lay my head in this bath of questions
Limbs float effortlessly away from me
Rusting doors encase my body and I fear not
I fear not for I am not alone
a ghost who speaks "thy kingdom come" strokes my hair
as the vines creep forth aging this paradise
and the seraphic hymns glide into nothing.

With deities and fallen prophecies muted, sleep returns
Crushing gently against my temples

I curl, womb-like, into this vapor. Lost.
Ethereal visions enter and escape my dreams
I am confused as to what is life and what is make-belief
Violence and love are quelled
My heartbeat is stilled and pleasing
Sifting upwards to where the sun was painted in acrylics
flakes falling like gold rain on the Arabic-tiled floors
Where hollow armies raise fists and chanted
to gods unknown and therefore unconquered
dispersed in darkness by my wavering fever and the cup of wine.

I walk alone into the night
Crushed roses drip melancholy beside dry trees
The barking earth grates against my soles
I whisper into the mouth of a dying bird
embroidered wings flutter and break silently
the mist is hung like a drape
my hair soaked in the skies abandon.

The roots have died
These mighty trees are swept aside by mere breezes
the tall grasses of the plains are ablaze
the inky seas have frozen
We have lost this paradise, again.

The pure disappear on chariots of gold
drawn by silhouettes and sounds

All that is dream-like is replacing itself with mirrors