Not on my knees with head all bound in thorns,
not in a pew prostrate before a god,
not stooped, nor bent, a sinner supplicant,
a poor unworthy man afraid to say:
Like as the eagle soars astride the wind,
like as the river flows from spring to sea,
like as erratic stands upright and firm,
a worthy creature proud to stride the land.
No more a child beset with guilt and shame,
but grown attentive to the joy of light,
humble as dust and underwhelmed by night,
a star that shines and whispers love to all.
We move in prayer, our talent in our verse,
we celebrate in time the universe.
I rose from the dead
We’d all love to rise from the dead
and snatch a second chance
from the teeth of history.
Which of you would refuse resurrection
and leave the stones in place
until the winter breaks?
My death was cold
and stank of feces
left by swallows fit to glide away.
I never knew how long my death would last
until I rose again from the jaws of a mystery made
before the stars exploded
and the universe was saved.
Mysteries of the Universe
Whose is the sweetest song?
What makes time tick?
When will insight beckon?
How does the Universe celebrate?
Where shall I find my better self?
How have tears cleaned hungering hearts?
What will expire without experience?
What is hardship hiding from?
Who has evolved from sorrow?
When will my beginning end?
How immense is the imagination of being?
How wide is the width of the world?
How real is the resurrection from eternity?
How long will happiness happen?
Where is my land of the living breath?