CONCERT OF THE GODS
One hundred thousand suns
burst their rinds,
dispense pools of light,
Swirling tendrils
hemorrhaging passionately.
Celestial veins
crack the porcelain vault,
connecting the fertile soil of night.
Atlas groans under the bending,
shrugging, shifting…
fingers clawing for stability,
hoisting each outburst into position.
.
Picking up my guitar, eyes closed,
empathic fist clenched,
in-breath tightens
before the down-stroke,
Pick poised, without a plan,
silver strings cower beneath
my hovering hand,
Chords slammed through a Sunn Amp
mimicking the concert of God –
Denizens of Eternity stand to applaud,
with Pascal, I can say only,
“Fire! Fire! Fire!”
Like Dahlia balls
Infinity bursts into bloom,
sepal spores drift into a greedy womb,
seeds burrow,
sprout songs,
myths unfurl and earth throbs –
An incessant pulsing moves the rapt
onlookers to spontaneous elation.
One whispers, “Hush”, and there is
that space between notes…
Conception – gestation - birth.
Scientists ask the Sorcerers
to explain how
continents knit together,
and how stray notes strung randomly
are subject to magic…
In another part of the Universe,
Agni ejaculates randomly,
chaotic streams fly
joining the egg of Einstein’s vision,
congealing softly.
Another full belly grows
warm with spawn,
infant kicks and his
igneous arms embrace the music of dawn.
She wiggles cloud-ward,
while below
serrated spines
under mountains rise.
And high above, a golden bowl
gently tilting
spills her creamy milk to young Earth,
taking its first breath, and then
the infants mouth suckles on sky and seas.
The End –
but I know
I shall attend this concert again.
end/michael
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