True North

A gift was given
The world was riven

A spectrum profound
I’m ripped from the ground

The gates begin to widen
A new Cosmos to stride in

I seek forbidden rites
The soul is aflight

The Christ spoke it true
Hundreds have been made new!

Afore the Nazarene
A host were made Clean

But my ego interfered
The intellect not reared

I thought myself tall
But in truth, I’m very small

The ego beaten down
My intellect, but a clown

Having realized my plight
God’s Grace is the Right

Knowing the fleshy course
His Grace is the Source.

The Banyan Deer

The deer had a chief in the green banyan grove
His ego was bloated with self-loving throes

He thought to himself…
my antlers are fine
my haunches are hard
and I have a keen mind

His long days were spent eloping with does
and taunting young bucks, in the green banyan grove…

But it once came to pass that he fell fast in love
A doe struck his heart like a dart from above

Not a fortnight had passed, and she carried his fawn
He’d sired three-dozen, but he thought them cheap spawn

This time, however
his soul felt a pang

The mother, he loved
and the fawn would bear his name

Yet on a day long ordained
before the hour of birth-pains
five hunters drew near to the grove

Bows at the ready
their hands naught but steady
the hunters came stalking the does

They found her alone
She stood like a stone
the mother who bore the chief’s fawn

By design, he was near
His heart filled with fear
at the sight of five bows that were drawn

She dared not to run
Her limbs had gone numb
She knew not how to process the danger

But the chief was abhorred
He’d seen this before
To the threat, he was ought but a stranger

Heedless of pain
or the danger to himself
afore his love, he sped, and there reeled

In this circumstance
he’d give her a chance
by using his body as a shield

The darts were then loosed
deadly as any noose
They punctured his body with ease

His scream split the air
It raised hackle and hair
The lament unbuckled her knees

It was then that she ran
there outpacing every man
She’d be damned lest her fawn see his life

He watched as she left
there gasping for breath
the Chief who ran not from the scythe

Yet amidst his sharp pain
he felt peace all the same
For once, his intent had been pure

Though spilling his blood
the earth turned to mud
his demise was now all but sure

He then gave up the ghost
His psychic-nature did boast
a vast myriad of thoughts and impressions

From this life, and that
he swirled in a vat
of images, sounds, and reflections

Then, in a blink
his mind on the brink
the Lord stood before him, as one clothed

His voice came as water
the tidings of a Father
To this One, the Chief was betrothed

He stammered in speech that he knew not before
To him this new Lord was a thing of adore!

“My Master” he said
there nursing his dread
“For your servant, what doom do you plan?”

The Lord broadly smiled
His voice, soft, as a child’s
“My son, you’re now fit to be Man.”

One Spirit

The Master beheld the pain in this world
He sought to assuage it with power unfurled

It wasn’t as if the pain was apart
He felt it Himself, right down to his heart

To the blind, He gave sight
To the lame, He gave limbs
The poor and needy, He counted as kin

To the sick, He gave health
To the dead, He gave life
To the mad He gave freedom, and ended their strife

But the pain never ended
What more could He do?
The suffering of man, He felt through and through

He wanted to end it
put it soundly to rest
Perhaps He could do it by taking on death…

The root of all suffering was karma, was sin
He knew how to sponge it, how to burn it within

If any had faith, His power they could use
But to heal so many, His body they’d abuse

If that was the price, “So be it,” He thought
He’d give life and limb to see it all stop

For the renewal of Earth
for the joy of each soul
He’d take on their karma, their sin, and their woe

I feel quite the same as Jesus once did
The suffering of others is a thing I would rid

But my strength and my faith compares not to the Christ
If he is a Lion, I fall with the mice

The death of this one that I call by first name
Is the price that’s required if I’m to master God’s game

With ego in balance and conceit in a vise
with a measure of time, I too will be Christ

Perhaps we were Life

Perhaps we were fish
adrift in the sea

Perhaps we were tadpoles
when life was yet free

Perhaps we were geckos
no places to be

And perhaps we were sauropods
with brains like a pea

Perhaps we were mammoths
with long woolly coats

Perhaps we were sabers
who cut many throats

Perhaps we were wolves
with puppies to dote

And perhaps we were lemurs
with soft tails like rope

Up through the eons
our paths may have crossed

And there are none who can tell the memories we may have lost

Yet apart from all that
we live life anew

Perhaps we were fish
but now
I’m here, with You