The Second Coming
Creation
is my ecstasy
The feeling of life
running through
the river
the forest
the thrill of the child
discovering
that he can walk
Creation
is my ecstasy
my glory
Forever new
yet for aye unchanged
Yet the power to create
longs for a connection
to the created
but is unable
to connect
The urge is too great
the body is overcome
with attachments
it does not understand.
The web of life
forever connected
rests in the warm embrace
of the mother
yet longs
for the fire
of the father
The freedom
of cosmic being
At the bridge
of Kâzad-Dûm
deep inside
the mountain
the magician
raises his staff
laughing at the fiery Balrog
'Thou shallt not pass'
he cries
'Thou cannot pass'
he laughs
'because you do not exist
except in my mind.'
The earth trembles
from the echo
of his laughter.
Falling
falling
into the deep
the magician
makes love
to the dark Balrog
Liberating him
from the infernal prison
of time
In the fiery sphere
deep inside the womb
of the mother
the firedevas
exuberantly respond
to the long awaited command:
'Liberate mankind
go forth into the world
and destroy all illusions.
Burn away the filth
that has made civilization
into a heap of dung.
Leave nothing
spare no one
the hour has come.'
Falling
Falling
Into the fiery sphere
The magician
is torn apart
by grief and laughter
as he recognizes
who he IS.
I am the wind,
the soil
the flowers
and the desert
I am the connectedness
of all life
Reality
falls apart
like a tower of dust
caught in the wind
The virgin cries
to the Father
Fill me
Fill me
with your rod of fire
It is my ecstasy.
to be ravished by you
impregnate me
with your will.
You will bear my child girl.
You will birth my son
by creating an order
that will herald
the second coming
of the Christ
The earth trembles
as the white flame of power
merges with the green flame of life
taking their rightful place
in the eternal fire of creation
The shadow is gone
It is no more
Mind has destroyed itself
Only pure being remains
pure feeling
pure truth
pure creation
There are acts but no actor
There is body but no dweller
There is creation but no creator
The body is left wondering
'Who am I that perform these acts
and who just uttered the command
to liberate all life?'
by Rolf Jackson
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