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THEY CAME DOWN FROM THE HIGH AND LOW PLACES,
....they threaded themselves along
...........................through
the intricate threadings,
the ancient ones and the new ones,
all the famous were among them,
..................all
the shining stars,
........all
the historical glory-grabbers, the great thieves,
all the inventors with their psychological quirks,
the nobodies came as well, the flowing multitudes of the anonymous,
the endless dissatisfied housewives, authoritative bureaucrats,
....gas-station attendants and couples
with no children,
............philanthropists
and the workaholics,
they came through the sandy pass,
faces were indistinguishable, differences unnoticed,
naked they came and assembled,
.......fear
for their own state kept their eyes on the ground,
they came and made ranks,
.......the
noble and notable next to the hardened criminal,
............the
saint in his glow next to the shrew in her darkness,
..................all
the Chinese came, all the Australian Aborigines,
some who had never been clothed came,
and some who had never been out of them,
important socialites were bereft of their diamonds,
the scholar with references bereft of his briefcase,
the policeman with his beer-belly pitched on his heels,
the priest with his miter now gone, lost in a haze,
well-known faces recognized in the earthly crowd
were lost in the mass now, shaded by the one standing next to it,
no Rolls-Royce stood ready for the king,
.......his
feet made dust-prints with the rest,
no helicopter hovered to take the millionaire away,
.......he
felt the weight of his reconstituted body now with the rest,
as they awaited the setting-up of the scales,
as humanity assembled on the p1ain under a blinding sun
and awaited the judgment to fall
........... that would decide each
one’s place.
Even the sainted were afraid, the ones whose hearts
............................glowed
like a sunrise
........through
the transparency of their rib-cages,
even they were covered in sweat to their eyebrows,
the camel-drivers of the edge,
........the
caravan-leaders at the margins of the earth,
.............the
destitute, delicate, daring hearts who
..................stayed
up nights calling out in hope
..........................and
spiritual derangement –
they took their places in this place of no-place
and awaited the click that would tell all,
.......the
sinking or rising of the pan
...........with
the light or heavy scales registering
................the
forever of their moments
.....................lengthened
out now along a line
visible from the beginning to the end of each life
like a straight narrative, or a string with knots in it.
No flaws in the universe,
and the universal memory has no lapses.
Each midget or giant of sensibility and care
came to the Jamboree
..............at
the beginning of Eternity
......and
wondered in its echoes
.....................what
its final fate would be.
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TYPOGLIF 1
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on image to enlarge
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THE PERFECT MOON-FACED ONE APPEARS
The perfect moon-faced one appears
with perfect lips and bow-like eyebrows.
His hair is braided behind his ears
and this pure appearance of his arouses
our trust that unity will thrive
and we’ll be taken to One Presence
now that we find ourselves alive
in this world that is far less dense
than that of actions was before
when one thing made another happen—
here we find an open door
that there was only rarely open.
Praising, Praise, Praiseworthy, comes
hands raised at his sides, exalting,
takes us by our hearts and runs
through the various stations vaulting
past the barriers raised inside,
lusts and greed and deep reluctance,
knocks them with a touch a side,
keeps our steps firm with insistence,
leads us up no stairs to no height
but the one raised elevation
past the deepest realms of insight
to the Next World’s happy station
face to face, our moon-f aced one,
faces us past all formation,
praising that One with no space, sun
moon or stars, but all creation
gone in flashes no light shines on
to the last, uncluttered, single,
breath-stopped, stable, unique vision
in which all our gazes mingle
steady now, unchanging, direct
slow and slower eyesight finished,
just a mirror set to reflect
all the states, enlarged, diminished—
one breath streaming out past life
into worlds no eyes have seen.
There we find ourselves, no strife,
but one gaze that is evergreen
light upon a topmost tip
eye to eye, the “I” now gone—
emptiness, heart’s deepest sip,
one gaze gazes on and on
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TYPOGLIF 2
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on image to enlarge
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