Chants from other side of the Moon #4

Autumn is the song-resistance
of being, the marrow of leafs bleed
through cracking of weakly spines,
but the spirit of leafs rises silently,
prophesying a future, seed-image
of spring to come

Yet Man is weary of autumns-of-life,
for he values spines more than spirits

Every Man is a river whom to Ocean must
return, for in his return all futures are flowers
of blossom ready for him to pick

But rivers are of such fate, fate of slaves turned
travelers, for they are late to realize that there are
no free worlds other than those carved by Man’s
very hands

Slaves are those whom choose to be slaves,
in art Man is ever free

Yet confused is Man, so holy and innocent
he is, flowers engrave word blessed in their souls
when they smell of spring, Man seeks stars not
acknowledging light that he is

Under the great Sky,
Man is bound not to mourn,
for he feels the weight of sand and
Earth, for he is the heart of Ocean, of Being,
in art of his hands King Chandra lives,
one that chants from other side
of the Moon


Michael of Moon

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