Zion come home to me

Zion come home to me

from the 3^rd to the 5^th

our oddity becomes us

as we prepare to shift across

the place where boundaries

once existed

the consistence of the fabric

is failing

falling at our feet

that we may tread

and leave invisible footprints

upon our past

a new consciousness is being birthed

within old minds

and we are babes

once again

there is a twinkle

within the eye of our soul

seeking to behold

it’s own reflective truth

Glory Be !

the glass has been cleaned

the hull has been gleaned

the weak are being weaned

and the crippled teats

of false solace

are drying up

for we were never ever nourished

by the lies

and we the children prayed

“now i lay me down to sleep . . .”

but it never came

until the dawn

when we were called

to turn our chatter off

close the portals to our awareness

that they could not poison

the divine seed

held in hidden hugs

within our inner sacredness

and now the procession begins

the clowns have painted their faces

with exaggerated smiles

and cloaked themselves

in oversized pantaloons

of pastels and silks

it is time to march

in the piper’s parade

the cymbals are crashing

and the crowds are jeering

cheering on the brave amongst us

hoping they will sacrifice their fears

and thus validate

their over inflated false esteems

are we there yet ?

the bets are being placed

on a Cosmic Roulette Wheel

and we are Rushing

to load the guns

wanna play ?

i got one in the chamber

just for you

it has my name on it

etched faintly in a surreality

this is my gift

because i love you

will you hurry and pull the trigger please

down on my bleeding knees

i am still praying for God

to quicken me

quicken his pace

and come and tell us the combination

to the lock to Eden’s gate

before we die

i do not wish to perform the task any more

of having to bury our brethren

The Christed One did say

“let the dead bury the dead”

well . . . i am tired of digging holes

i am sweating rivulets of melancholy

a strange blood drips

profusely from my brow

it blinds me

like a Taurean wanting to charge

i am seeing red

but there is no anger for me to embrace

not for the Tailor

nor the Weaver of this cloth of existence

my slothful ways are fading

as if they never were

and i must gather a new reason

to possibly justify

my spiritual procrastinations

and i know i can not

for i have smiled in the face

of my delusions

once too often

tell me a story

sing me a lullaby Mommy

that i may slumber

this is the wantonness of the anxious

but She is at rest

and wishes not to be disturbed

so ssshhhhhhhhhhhh

lest you invoke her wrath

and she then will quell

your Harp-ing

the Doves are circling like Vultures

seeking but a solitary Olive Branch

that they may return

to the place of pairing

where all wait permission

to exit the Ark

has your Twin Flame spoken  ?

has it stopped raining yet ?

i the Lion begin to hunger

but they told me

to not bite the hand that feeds me

... but i am carnivorous

and i have a taste

for Blood and uncooked meat

feed me your body

you self declared Christ

that i may be sanctified

by the false Doctrines you have fed

the other inhabitants

who voluntarily attended this carnival

you are but a man

as am i

and as we both cling to the myths

of our belief systems

created for man

by man

we step across the path of righteousness

killing in the name of some God

whom we have never met

but yet

carried within our breast

all of our misunderstood lives

and they incessantly ask me

“What’s in your wallet”?

does it really matter ?

in the meantime

there is an awakening taking place

the coded strands of the ancient “Lore”

of our construct

is beginning to resonate

within the memories of us

who are paying attention

we were told we were mere mortals

but how can that be

when He / She / It

which was perfect and beyond

made me

the only light that has failed me

is the one you gave me control of

and i have yet to flip the switch

but i know it does exist

somewhere in this abyss

of my exponential-ness

so i stand here with but my intentions

not to mention

my power

and i refuse to cower anymore

for

be it death

or transition

it is all the same

and the crippled

the lame

shall walk again

and claim their thrones

as we the drones

take responsibility

for our own possible demise

my eyes are open now

and i smile within

in a “knowing”

a certainty

as Zion comes home . . . to me

© 23 October 2012 : william s. peters, sr.

www.innerchildpress.com

www.iamjustbill.com