7 - the past is practice

In the beginning:

The universe is so large,

reasonably I will never make it back

to the place I started.

However...

in many ways it is all the same.

Revealing for my own piece of mind

the reasons for my undue captivity

my banishment to the electric birdcage

is an unfortunate preoccupation,

a condition relegated to one forever alone

in the deep recesses of space.

The spaces are only in my perception.

While in an electric birdcage one

delves,

introspection is inevitable.

In the beginning

I floundered and expressed my

dismay by flinging to the stars

and into them;

mayhem, my coherent response

to a dearth of representation.

The usual questions recycled and fueled my rage.

Finally what was left

beyond the ruined galaxy

was myself alone in my

birdcage, susurrus against a backdrop

of dark matter.

No problem

where there is one,

there are a million more

and I set a goal of visiting all

if not merely as many as One wills.

Never tho did I come across the sorrow,

or the cause of my dismay:

the lords of the universe

forgetful of far flung corners

and warring now on a galactic level

disturbing the peace.

I find myself no match

and remain clear of Their quarrels

but my caged heart pines for the souls below

grubbing in the dearth of a neverending gloam

like a home spun awry and dropped into the chasm.

I catch glimpses of a world torn in twain

of a people high, cloud dwelling, sucking on the ether

and a second, lowly, setting fire to the future.

O'er the clouds and ozone the One recoils from the soot,

His duty to preserve beauty is broken like the proverbial chain

and minions of desolation hold court on a field of waste.

No nearer to the truth of my captivity

I see above and below the consequence

of the universal deity -

as One travels on eclectic byways

giving thought thus birth

reveling in the glory of relevance

and fleeing to unsung infinities to begin again.

This is the way it is what it is where we are

right now.

I have some notion of this

have partaken in the process

history is written in the stars.

It may be time to revisit the past.

part 8.1