From the throne of God, atop the mountain’s cragged face,
a faint blush bleeds through the ashen darkness\' space
Through this small rent in the fractured dam of night,
A golden glow of a resurrected sun spills over a sea of clouds glowing bright
As a philosopher\'s stone, transfiguring water to wine and wine to frothing milk.
Far below, the misty wisps of a broken billowing tide of white flowing silk,
a slow rolling breaker spreads a whitewash of light across a dusky valley floor
washing away the cobwebs and dream dust of the night before
In its growing brightness the past becomes the future
Illuminated in an amber haze, to the shadow of myths reality is sutured
A lonely, winding river, fences off virgin, fresh, fertile, forests of green
deflowered and defiled by mans touch and his rape most obscene
Their violator having plowed and sowed their fields
left them soiled and partially covered with his foliage green shields
Now pregnant under patchwork quilts and frayed blankets of varying hues,
sower of seeds ignores their dirt stained tears as paths of abuse to excuse
Unnoticed runs in ragged harlequin cloths reveal the dark skin of man’s slave.
With age and years of labor, now she yields poorly, having given all she gave
Here an ancient, well worn, dusty, dung spattered, dirt scar,
the master’s mark of ownership, winds its way bearing a loaded ox car
This ownership brand carries the servant‘s sweat to distant shops and stores
separating creations perfection from nature’s naked shame marked with cabin pocked sores
Passing by, the thirsty byway bends with the damp demands of it’s conjoined consort
belatedly promising marriage, holding intercourse with the twisting, lazy, cafe au lait water escort
Blistered by the bumps of buried boulders, and stained by mottled splotches of shade,
the plain, seldom chosen lane, and its tainted hoary companion come to a deserted country church decayed
lying with its crooked crosses, and crumbling cemetery crypts
that hold the mass of all its believers and non believers, lost on church scripts
Here, as the land’s life blood flows back to its mother, master and slave become one.
And thus from the dust and dirt God created his bastard son.