So he found himself waking in a rowing boat
manning the oars of his destiny
on that river of life amidst all other creatures
A river, ocean wide, with passages narrow
rowing with his back to the future
and his eyes on the now and past of man
His neck rigid as if blocked by osteoarthritis
preventing to see destiny too clearly
watching all the fellow rowers and plodders
Those in the now, in boats, rowing or steering
passenger or participant or drowning
already. This ocean of life has rough currents
Rowing he realised he's in need of a clear mirror
to look at what's ahead, into a future
for this roar he heard, a horror, an abyss sensed
Neck hairs standing on end, where is he heading
could he afford a pause to have a glance
and in a blink, out of thin air, a passenger's there
She, the one that had entered his boat, mirrored the to-be
his visitant tells him that She'll be his cox, his mirror
for the fullness of time, first and foremost mirroring his self
And he's afraid to see his imperfections in the eye of the sacred
as he deems himself unworthy for the task at hand
and while that's how he perceives himself, it's not the cox's view
The unearthly visitant tells him that that's not how She sees him
and shows him in mirrored-eyes how he sees Her
now he's a mirror as She sees herself through his adoring eyes
As he's transcended in being Her mirror reflecting love's perfection
his chosen, essence, his guide, archangel, Jophiel
saying his projection of bliss's making Her radiant, seraphic, divine
And unrivaled by Her love did he see his self, loving, satis perfected
so he rowed that boat sensing more than seeing
the kaleidoscope of man's past, its thunderous present, and a future
Heading for the abyss, yet She smiled lovingly while She mirrored all
and every living thing as he rowed steadily his boat
ahead, but never neared, as so many passed by ..and.. dissapeared
In this mirrored future as he rowed. rowed, rowed his boat to that ultimate ending
the apocalypse, in which so many, but not him, plunged
as he looked at his boat and oars, unmanned, and where he was he, there was I
Looking in on a dream, that he dreamt, while She was roaming freely in my dream
filled with this wordly vergangenheit and current decline
of ever increasing decay, of social breakdown of plastic soup and of pliable minds
And so enabling such waterfall, this planned destruction of life in sequential stages
and he saw those made for the gallows but not to drown
witnessing all these characters and souls from William's dream of heaven and hell
As he sailed life's oceans from Lear's storm to tempest all prewritten and played out
and even did he meet the few futured in Momo's seven levels
yet the mob the many just drowned in their numbered days of lust, greed and vanity
And he, in my dream cringed, recoiled, from every hurt, from Mazen al-Hamada's murder
kindling this guilt of ours of remaining safe, passive, inanimate
as Mazen's dream ended I woke with just this light osculation of Her on my lips and heart
She, the incorruptible watcher, limitless, inimitable, termless, infinite particle, immortal, mirror
sometimes, Lou, I do have the weirdest dreams possible he said
so, in my anomalous occult enigmatic singular living dream, my preternatural consciousness
© 2024-12-14
