Self Ascending
Searching for the way
Gate on gate until
A fenced enclosure of the self
Spiky membrane of a mutating cell.
This single Centre with two nuclei
One old and dark, a sort of hell
One new and lit, yet secretive.Old dark labyrinth of the nightmare mind
Tomb of hanging beams and creeping things
Hidden ghouls and swinging bells
Dull black axes over torture fires
Eyeless skulls and human bones
Devil’s teeth in human flesh,
Source of pain and all our wickedness.In this dark, gestating womb, a spirit heard.
Through the knitting-web this tugging thread
Draws half-dead souls from sleeping slabs
Along blind walls through doors ajar
Into darkness’ source
Pin-pricked above with glints of light.
Now the spirit weaves and shakes
Pouring life into lifeless gapes.These half-lives trap the spirit’s path
And by St. Vitus’ dance are led along.
Punch drunk, worn and cold
They come cowed and bowed to the hall
And like spittle spat upon the floor
Once more, lie drained and helpless
Wanting more.At last, dim dark is turning grainy as
Lamp and candle play Baptist to the sun.
Rays split and colours grow,
Ice thaws and hearts pump-pump
Eyes flicker and noses twitch
And in growing golden glow
Eyes blink and hail their rising sun.Glassy eyes may deform the light
But where there’s shrinking sin
Grace flies in, so tears now crystal prisms
To bright light, scattered and multiplied.
By subtraction division ends
Thus, one plus one makes more than two
As in cleaving one or two, Three ascends.
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- Categories: 2011 Poetry Paul Atherton Others
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