Opening The Cosmic Eye

 

 

Awake

In

The

Hollow

Of the night

Black holes

Rouge

Across his

Mind

Compiling

Pages

Of life

Bright

Beams of

Radiant

Light

Stretch

Across

Empty

Space

Begin

Swirling

A galaxy

 

He still

Holds

The cosmos

Inside

His dark

Eyes,

He still

Holds

The cosmos

Inside

the dark

Of his eyes,

Inside

The dark

Of his

heart

 

Chaos

Slowly

Spiraling

open

blossoming

Creating

A flower

Which is

Very

Much

Alive

 

“Pistol Of Peace”

 

 

When

He speaks

They

Always

Say he’s

From

The mothers

Land;

He explains

As they

Ask this

Afiacan,

In yin

& yang

Signs

Black

& White

Take them

Back home

Again,

His hair

Has grown

Grey

Tired

Of all the

Talk now he’s

Out in the

Real world,

At his last

Bus stop

Going home

Speaking

Poems in

Foreign languages

His only guns

Are his vocal

Cords and

As the wind

Passes through

His barrels of

Peace, they

Will

Echo &

Penetrate

Through

Your soul

When he says

His

Name is………