Chironic Vision Part I
The future descends
from the fear-embroidered skies
the vision is of holocaust — when everybody dies
A new day is dawning, but is it sun or storm?
We have a chance to make our mark
but is it right or wrong?
The military marches
The anti-warriors too
We take our stand in battle
The many and the few
Spinning tales of magic, of wizardry and fate
We want to know just how it ends before it’s all too late
We sing our song too late
We right our wrongs too late
We want to know the date
To find a better fate
Can I tell you?
Can I help you to know or understand?
Can I utter the words that will make you see me?
Standing here before you, I want to take your hand
to be swirled up into a magical dancing
to be taken to worlds of beauty entrancing
to give you the will and the wonder to set you free.
Can you see me?
As long as it matters that I exist
As long as I’ve something to go back to
As long as there is a community of which I am an integral part
The rest is just details
And though “the devil is in the details”
So are the gods.
One Hand Clapping
Is a reflection in a glass,
half empty or half full
or, like moonlight
filled with the stuff of dreams?
What is the sound of moonlight
dripping onto the earth
down a silver stair?
What is the demand of dreamlight?
Emotion spilling onto sand or clay,
roaring like soundwaves?
Light coalescing into sound into waves into sea?
What is the demand of sky of sea of fire
dripping through the twilight?
half moonlight, half mind.
Weave into the fabric of a tribe of artistic dancers.
Fall under the spell of pure magic.
Silent night, peace and cold
Imbue me with music
In ecstasy, I dance to the stars.