Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Horus Forgave Prometheus

Driving into an area where the sun drapes darkened benches when the moon’s lost its light to campfires when I learn-see again…
Underneath the sheen of the milky way herein fairies roam and dwell; for, they seek something similar strange…

Aged carvings tell pillared stories:
A birded flight of winged Isis
Mounts a spectre named phallus
Removed from Osiris whose twelve pieces reassembled
Nearly whole on cold unforgiving stoney slab
He somehow begets a sun
Rising on the horizon is Horus

I AM Horus!, says he.
A hore of us is part of us
and we move on into the we of us
Here we reside for most of the time between
But, she runs beyond the stars
On a sunlit wave step that I could not reach
not on the sunnestmost beach…

In disobeyance, I dream
Not out of will or a need to try
Rather out of the coursing energy surrounding
I see myself a thousand pieces strewn about
Every one of them tells a lie about the whole
My Promethean slumber sees on the mountaintop I’m dismembered
Though in nightly dreams I’m rightly remembered
Gusts blow beyond fire as images stir and twist
Ashes transform from the former alive.

Invigorating fire—I hear a sound past the inane
In the midst of what was once sparking fire
A lady’s cry answered by bufoonic antics
Related to putting out a fire—
What I see here is plentiful loving fire
Regardless the winds that treacherously overtake
Fire, rather that one could warm themselves over

And we build our fire with the logs that remain
Reveling in the warmth and light that is reborn
Out of Prometheus’ flesh and suffering
For us…


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