Is it true at all to this turning of events,
the fear that comes up as the sea swirls around your Sunday feet.
As the mind dances breaks cries in the swirling burning,
as if a hand may be pushing the hardened land to break.
And I hear a call that is too a fire that says you don’t have a leg
to stand, a seat to sit, or a country to call
your own.
Soul of dearest you there is nothing
to hold on and even marmite toast isn’t it
as the familiar turns to ash,
as it was supposed to.
The heart the heart the heart the beating surge that brings up everything, brings up all to knock out the stuffing the anger the coldness so that all we hear is diamond laughter.
So let all go it said, let it all go whatever ‘it’ may be.
You don’t know nor do I, this frozen moment this infinite moment.
Its not in our hands and no symbol of any kind can stop
the burning now.
Only the touch of the golden one, who is
Who is
Who is
That is
The breath of She that is He.
The darling one that laughs to smash all the crying hate.
Of every world and being.
Can you hear that ringing laughter,
Now.
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