Archetypes
walk city streets, ride subways
costumed as commoners —
subterranean trickster consciousness,
ethereal siamese twin
to the mundane.
Shadow and substance
entwine as before
the incursive divide.
I long to tell you,
yearn so I loudly whisper,
but only if you really listen.
I cannot say these things twice.
Memories seep through,
acquire form.
Stand straight and true
as soldiers or Marines
gifting full allegiance
to any who will take that load.
There are Gods foaming in excrement,
demanding relief in sardonic
sacrament
potent and deadly.
Angels and
Demons wage stochastic war;
dice from a grail
foresage trial or comfort.
Hungry Ghosts wail.
Vampires and Creatures
made of night
seek shelter before
travails of fablers
break them.
Morning Star
winks salaciously.
In wild’s kingdom
all manner of beings
thrive.
Eagles soar.
Lions roar.
Whales sing.
Humans open a
veiled third eye.
The World rejoices.
.
.
.