Face of Gaia, a Poem
For My Pagan Friends
Face of Gaia
It's time now,
for the coverup;
Jesus was a Pisces, his sigil, fish,
The Marys, Mother or whore,
No fun middle, there...
virgin birth, no less,
as if the seeded birth is any
less a miracle,
I cannot touch these gods,
children without sex,
homes with no walls,
on clouds sprayed out
Thomas true, no word by you ?
The Magdalene, they go too far.
I the Christian, and no wise farce,
prepare for hell, that jagged reach,
Why only say, Yeshua Bar Yusef,
That I heard a little voice today.
And it was animism at best Christ,
I could aspire to, unless, you too,
were an earthbound mortal, crying in the wilderness
I will pay the price of truth, and you knew that,
and you are still here. With me., Then,
My God, go a way with me.
There was before you, dirt and light ,
water and time...
once I was a dragon,
speaking esoteric drawls to quasars,
keep up, lesser gods,
the Goddess speaks of midnight,
of all living things.
I am the breath, the moment
I'm the birch-scroll which shines phosphor
in the light,
I am fiddlehead fern, nautilus to spring,
Stop me Christ!
When I have lied!
You made that brain.
She said, I knew you, before you knew you.
I knew you would walk fields of bluebells,
they smell like oranges at mid day,
you would stand in a stream
from light to light,
just to see the trees begin to dance,
and carry a raven bundle for years,
She says; I watched dawn and dusk slip by
for many ages, the opposites of the same stream,
only moth wings...
Step lightly on Gaia.
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