she sips a glass of wine and admits, agrees she too, doesn’t want to be
on this prison planet under these archons, guided and insulated by sadistic angels, both, in servitude to the demiurge
no escaping it, Them
even in Bucolia
she’s still plagued by the 24-hour news cycle, contemplation that often veers off into nihilism,
and, by bouts of suicidal ideation — but to go back around, back to another false birth in this Samsara, to start over? — no thanks //
perhaps crying in the wilderness, then.
where is that, exactly? the mountains, buttes and canyons also betray us — those ancient Watchers, the petroglyphs warned us of — and of shapeshifters cloaked in feathers, fur and scales ///
This feels like an arrow
Made from a tree
That rose from
An acorn
That I gathered and stored
In another life
Scribed with a message continually
piercing my heart
I wasn’t only wounded though,
I was woke
into a clarity
that I was already sighting in my dreams,
writing with words
mortal and eternal
You once said, proclaimed or whispered
Every single thing
that I ever believed
My own truths embarrassed in the shadow of your confidence
My inner voice silenced in your animated persuasion
Believing you so completely – for the better of my years
Becoming like and unlike you because of it,
but not be-coming me,
Un-be-coming me every day
I ain’t even mad.
You don’t know this – still,
You don’t want
to hear it.
or listen;
Our time is running out, and
Even this admission
Is sure to haunt me one day,
and guilts me today
But I can’t call you confidant or crone
If you refuse to learn,
to evolve,
From this singular archetype
The wide and long view
seems to escape you:
You live in the moment in the least way, the worst way
And I don’t worship here or there, any more
The faith in your godliness is gone, and
It is unfamiliar
For me to pity you
You, intentionally deaf and tone deaf
You had all the answers
In the morning shallows, perhaps;
But evaporation revealed even those
Were anchor-less, yet stationary ideas
An algae,
Mucking up the colorless perfection of sunlit water
The Well at Kom Ombo AWIB-ISAW: The Well at Kom Ombo A deep well at the Ptolemaic temple at Kom Ombo, which functioned as a nilometer. The well is also thought to have been used in the ritual worship of the crocodile. by Iris Fernandez (2009) copyright: 2009 Iris Fernandez (used with permission) photographed place: Omboi (Kom Ombo) [pleiades.stoa.org/places/606346]
Get to the bottom of this.
This, means You
Get to the bottom – of Your Self
Do you have to be thrown
down the well
through loss, by the grave, or near-grave
What if
instead,
we pulled the rug out from under ourselves
to reveal the formidable trap door
What if we climbed down into the dark cellar, willingly
to enter our infinite interior
to touch the well
the ancient aquifer within
where the gods reside and respite with our Twin Selves,
our other-halves waiting for discovery
This infinite, eternal presence
be-neath our weathered houses
What if we willingly descended
Into it
Unto it
And we learned to crave the Original Dark
and its companionship
Where we delve deep into our imaginations, dreams, nightmares,
That connect us primally
to the pool of imaginations, dreams and nightmares of every one,
Of every being that ever existed
Collective Unconscious
made Self Conscious
The dark, deep well
we may all draw from
Pour out your false light
reveal the truth:
the unbearable emptiness of being
Cup your hands
Or wade into the well
Deeper and deeper
submerge, swallow
you’ve been bone dry for so long
Do you see that now?
Baptize
The only way
To rebirth yourself
Into something worth birthing
Into something worth being
is by this sacrament, anticeremonially, un-ceremonially
Knowing now the bottom is
The only place where alchemy happens
What remains, if it’s taken all away,
if I die or am killed today;
If I were never born today;
If I were reborn today;
If I were unborn today;
if I choose to strip all of it away,
if I strip It all away
I
strip
It
all
away
My birth;
My parentage;
My race;
My ethnicity;
My nationality;
My family history;
My name;
My family;
My childhood;
My background;
My home;
My neighborhood;
My city;
My country;
My back-story;
My culture;
My religion;
My friends;
My loves;
My partner;
My marriage;
My child;
My progeny;
My legacy;
My intellect;
My politics;
My beliefs;
My ethics;
My talents;
My labor;
My education;
My skills;
My occupation;
My associations;
My friendships;
My relationships;
My temperament;
My attitude;
My affection;
My cowardice;
My courage;
My humor;
My hate;
My prejudice;
My justice;
My wins;
My losses;
My habits;
My flaws;
My knowledge;
My personality;
My indignation;
My judgment;
My judgments;
My action;
My inaction;
My anger;
My rage;
My compassion;
My strength;
My kindness;
My goodness;
My shame;
My joy;
My pain;
My ideas;
My words;
My speech;
My secrets;
My expression;
My face;
My body;
My womb;
My motion;
My taste;
My scent;
My touch;
My sound;
My body,
My temple
My aperture
My dwelling;
My mind;
My humanity;
My morality;
My dignity;
My presence;
My universe;
My heart;
My love;
My experience;
My gods;
My death;
Who am I
Without them?
What am I
Without them?
What remains, then,
without them?
Who remains, then,
without them?
Then What am I
Then Who am I
Who am I
What am I
Still am I?
am, I?
Am I
Am I, I
Am I Am
Am I sound
Am I essence
Am I origin
Am I alpha
Am I omega
Am I always
Am I all ways
Am I everything
Am I nothing
Am I every thing
Am I no thing
Am I light
Am I dark
Am I god
Am I energy
Am I vibration
Am I consciousness
