Beacons Of Creation

Beacons Of Creation The void is full of streaming, With no unsubstantial seeming And the coming of creation never stops.

You can dance upon its center And wear motley as you enter For the wise man and the fool are what is not.

Wings, the things of birds, construct Great castles out of downy feather And while celestial legions gather, Whole families raise toast together To a void where truth is coasting.

And the whirling wind is sucking All about with one huge boon and kiss.

Even time is uninvented As it finds itself demented By the swiftness of the sharpest sword of bliss.

This blade of intervention Is collapsing all dimension And is known by those Who thirst but for the truth.

Feelings from the ether Go blind with heaven's treasure And ideas of jubilation fall far short.

Roller coaster swoop commences On a ride not made for senses, In a vacuum filled with joyous sight.

All who ride these rails are patient, Knowing this theme park is ancient, And they will see an all consuming light.

Carl Estrin