I Am He

I'm lying in wait, fading.

Between being and non-being,

Seen, but unseeing. Life goes by in rippling waves of lilting laughter before my painted eyes. Giant spots of black encircled in glaring white;

My arms, half done, of sacred wood,

I'm lying in wait, fading. 

Deep in the mysteries of dark uterine walls, 

Buried in wilted garlands, oils, sandal paste, vermilion;

Bathed in devotion streaming down transient faces,

Devotion eroding my granite feet,

I'm lying in wait, fading. 

Chants and wailing prayers, oh deafening!

Screams of agony, ceaseless

Discord of organ pipes, cymbals, bells clashing and ringing , in futile waves crashing, and receding, and

Crashing again on marble ears,

I'm lying in wait, fading.

Watching rooftops flying like leaves, high up; men, cattle, houses, dust, trees swept up alike, in 

Nature's spiraling rage; 

Pale sickness and pestilential residue of man's lust and greed;

Monstrous ships blasted in tempests striding the wild seas, 

smashed to pulp, leaving in their wake 

Skies of papier-mâché, shaded in swaths of ochre and crimson, with tinsel stars pinned on,

I'm lying in wait, fading.

Lying beneath the towering blue legs of a vengeful goddess, 

Her blood-soaked tongue dripping all over me,

These stone hands, this metal trident - are not mine!

My matted locks scourging space like solar flares

Belong to other visions. 

I'm lying in wait, fading.

Not virtue. Not passion. Not chaos.

I Am He.