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how supreme was my being

June 14, 2022

when sisyphus is too apt
slip into a myth more comfortable –
conversations with adam and eve
apollo galahad ned ludd

how supreme was my being
when we walked together in the cool of the evening
in the everywhen dreamtime
in the realm of the always is/was
as above, so below

our mostly lost memory of the before makes us
thirst for the eternal hanging in the air of the after
with our monkey minds a-chattering and a-nattering
beeping scrolling squawking
to drown out the longing

old ned ludd is alternatively nodding and weeping
in his everywhen
forgive them they know not what they do

galahad the pure of heart
where can he hang his helmet in such a world
romantic knights and imaginary cowboys
dwell in the same world as equestrian statuary
attracting honour worship and abhorrence
in diametrical measure

apollo via cupid begets
the goldenhaired blueeyed christ
who suffers his limbo fate
like the rest of us

those who demanded the literal
lost the essence
call the myth history and poetry is abandoned
and all hope is lost

float the myth on a cloud
it ascends and shines forth
and hope gently glimmers
as it drifts under a shining sun

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