The Door

THE DOOR

End of days–the barren Eden drying—

Threats and fears realized—the days

Complete in exhaustion and obliterated—

Once we had hope and hope led us here—

Faith, faith too hard to come by—the last

Thing is no more—we have failed it and

It us—perhaps it never was at all—not

Even on that tree—a just illusion—taken

On faith, hoped for, sought, warred against,

Opened to—place the blame on Pentecost:

A group in fear gathered, early fanatics,

Believing in their hearts burning within—

A backroom group with a heartburn no

Different than backroom groups today

Plotting with planes and hoping a dance

With virgins—was a virgin in our story,

Too—fact, a whole religion was built

Upon woman’s purity—the theological

Conceits of never being touched endless—

Appropriate to the Age of Pices—the fish!

Chased that belief all the way to the end of

Days—it is twenty-o-nine—in just a few

Short years will be twenty-twelve and

The last two millennia of ever-virginity

And faith and hope and love are not enough

To see us through a radical and fundamental

Shift in consciousness and through the door to

Aquarius—water, water.

June 2009

Dan Davis (c) 2009

~ by Dan Davis on 09.29.09.