A Poem from Daniel Orsini’s Galactic Pilgrim
A singularity is but a point,
The body moribund that we anoint,
Unshelled in the crescendo, out of joint
The Spirit vanishing till He appoint
Transparencies in Spacetime, such a snow
As cloudform, swan, or solar wheel may sow,
Or moonplant in the vas, or in the flow
His tethered unit, target of the bow.
As steep in the fissure shadows rattle,
Upon the altar scimitars tattle,
Or tumbles the infant till hands that hoist
Release enfleshed His ghost without a joist,
In the berm by the creek the lizard strays;
Round the herm in the garden flowers like rays,
In beds of humus couched, suborn the worm,
Entwine the crossbar, vindicate the term.
Jack-o’-lantern winked out, Cheshire that rare,
Silken funnelweb dangled by a hair;
The thief beside Him, Christ inside its snare,
Hierophant at sunrise astride His mare.
Still the trumpeter orchestrates His blare.
Galactic pilgrim, meditate His flare:
Ge’s hyphenate gamonymous and fair,
Everyone is on his way to somewhere.