Prophet

Prophet

within the cataclysmic void

the abyss where the ”pressions” dwell

the Prophets of expression

speak to the known entities

we ignore

impressions

the time approaches

where the gate of reconciliation

must be passed through

“what’s in your wallet”

no One Capital

will allow you to pierce

that Needle’s Eye

that Aye

guarded by Camels

will your soul be able

to thread it

when the bugle sounds ?

tread lightly they say

for all will be dark again

to those who have not realigned

we cosign to things

they say are inalienable.

my “i” smiles speaking silence

behind the mask of presence

lest we be discovered

that we are akin

Wikepedia declared the story to be fictional

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cataclysm

either Batman or his Creator lied

or deliberately cast us upon

the wilderness

that we may find our way

yet, batman

or that man

or you man

Hued Man

have, has, had

a specified journey

did we even connect

i detect something in the air

it has been looming

for the entire Piscean age

and a part of the Arian

as well

and there is no time

to be shaking and fearing in

these rundown domiciles and huts

we at times can see

as Castles and Temples

the chattel is but that

the names spoken

the words evoked

in “Speak Of” . . .

Sapiential

or the lyrics of Sirach

do they even begin to equate

the wait of our Soul’s longings

can we conjure this ?

can our vessel hold

the New Wine made from Old Grapes ?

would another intangibility

such as a parable

hold you in a stillness

for but a while ?

or shall we be as Jacob

and continue the prevailing

wrestling match

facing the image

found in reflections

of our being-ness

that of God

a Blasphemous thing

in the finite mind’s eye of men

but in the Soul, it is reconciliation

a finding of One-Self

claimed to be Egoic

in Nature . . . that of men’s

definitions

in the tiring

of the calloused soles

that have endured and trod

from Eden

to the Babbling whispering tales

of Lore and Dreams

of Scheherazade

we still meander

through the mist

aimlessly amiss

that we may label the way

a quest

or a test

yet detesting that we have

voluntary

acquiesced

a mild soul shaking

spirit waking

is coming

as the Oceans

that house all consciousness

begins to consume it’s self

it does this

with the aid of the Sun’s light

leaving the Algae,

our breath

to but dry up

fly up

and grasp the winds of transformation

it has been said

and all this was Prophesied

and it will inevitably come to pass

for all things

spoken

uttered

doth so

as do all seeds sown

yield some type of fruit

bitter or sweet

but never replete

and i point my finger

to the north of Heaven

hoping to see a vision

of the chamber of Souls

where they house

their dreams of peace

that i too may dream again

of such a thing

i hear the rushing waters

sssssshhhhhhhhhhh

they are being poured

from the “Bearers” Earthen Chalice

that the abundance of spiritual things

and movement

drown our aguish

in that Sea

of Forgetfullness

and you Prophet

i request your voice of reason

and presence

let me, we cross

pass through the gate

with unlatched empirical deductions

and seductions

but to become one

let us shine as the Sun

and the glow manifest

upon us

that we be transformed

into our illusion-less self

as are we

one

Prophet

© 3 June 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

 http://www.innerchildpress.com/

http://www.iaminnerchild.com/