In Elysium

To my progeny I offer my middle hand,

A dagger on my hip and rings in my ears.

I follow the camels into the dessert

The sun bares the scars

Of the heat that burns within my heart.

 

In the court of the great King I could not kneel

For my finery hindered true action,

I would not relinquish one notch

To melt before the

Gardens of paradise waiting.

 

In my quarters, a box where my jewels lie hidden,

My children are sure to inherent such a

Wealth of guilt.

Where is the father I may become?

Where is the greatness in my fertility?

Why must I blight my unborn son?

 

Curtains drawn before dawn to let the darkness in,

Angels speak within the feint brushstrokes of nature

Awakened,

Casting the sleep from its eyes.

 

My silent meanderings with the moon have left me

Without words or cause.

Why do I flee when joy surrounds?

I am called to rest in sacred silence

And choose thunder

And ride every storm chariot.

 

At the heart of this is peace,

I hear its footsteps somewhere long forgotten.

A yearning from within simmers

And warms this dawn;

 

I must quest, I must linger, I must leave this instance

For the one I love;

Then slip away, into the unknown

Abyss of restful slumber.

 

Yet still,

A slight bitterness divides.

Power does not corrupt the stream,

It grows and carves new ways,

The flow strengthens within a

Raging torrent.

 

True freedom tends to send us

Seeking in different ways.

Way back to the Elysium fields,

Where the great dead roam,

I was born a peasant farmer and still am.

But will I toil ever on?

When will it drop?

 

I was not made for greatness,

I was simply made.

Without hands to act, without eyes to see,

When my heart finally heals over,

It is then that pure love will find me sat here.

 

I am not ancient,

Just grit in the eye of the maker

Re-made,

A passing dot

At which point all things merge,

A passage of potent love

For one and all

To mutate and abuse.

A steady march to

New pastures,

 

With pained pleasures

And gold strung nooses

And a want to fill

The sky with faces and lies;

A want to succeed where success is immutable

And live as if death

Is no longer a neighbour

But a lover now scorned.

 

Awaken from endless seeking,

Beginning-less beginnings await

Open hearts,

To show greater trust and let it come.

 

My hand brushes the barley of the infinite field,

I see it map the contours of my soul.

Surrounded by all my loved ones

In an eternal space,

No longer a shadow

From the past and future.

All love is here.

 

Am I dreaming to believe?

That in Elysium

We are all free.

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