Outpost

I think when I have reached the fabled end of this unbearable beginning
and all my many wounds and scars dissolve
into the blessed crucible of night,
I will if choice is given me forgo a resurrection of the body
for assumption or deserved descent
or any sale of this alleged soul

May the doe-eyed Huris (hidden pearls) not disturb the sweetness of my rest,
nor the clamor of the sexless seraphim
send tin hosannahs to rattle through my dreams.
And keep me, please, from the glare of a hilltop Sodium City,
from all the meccas, temple mounts and churches
in whose names the fervent spill their blood.

No Eden can shelter child of man, nor any love anneal his written Fall
so on my belly let me sleep as I have crawled
in the failing light and unforgiving dust.

Let the rushing wind that swells and soughs across these bony plains
coax my every weary molecule apart
and in the empty darkling night let me be free…
and lay me ‘neath the holy prairie grass
and let grass become of me

Copyright 2009, Thomas J Burbach

much peace