our children
fruit of generations
holder of the seeds of coming worlds
press forward with the driven truth
as plow to shoulder
joyful in the Songs of Solomon
carriers of the Golden Mean
and all your
generations yet unborn
know that I love you
as my own
we are the centipede
with endless aching paths of heart
ped pedding through and
passing to the forward
all that's been and all that's meant to be
that second self that walks in dreams
and holds all worlds behind the veil
that lifts with 0ne mere child's
transparent hands
we watch the flower fade
and breath the sigh of lovers
knowing that the seed upon the wind is you
extending toward new worlds of bliss
the siren call from oceans in the
ruddy summer skies
how many eyes have you now recognized
a silent pledge to each
a knowing
that the lifting will proceed at any cost
not of this worldly guise
(our precious cradle of the soul
emerging)
but now upon the endless solar winds
with eyes to sea
and eras to engage our song
the music of the spheres
all drama of the ages past
transformed into dynamic forms
of all the endless god's inertia
blest be
the you and me