bayeux, red sands

The Sands of Bayeux

The low-bass rumble of a thrown voice,
Cast from a distant world,
Echoed through my shaman-sleep;
Oxygen starved cave-dots to join
Through black tunnels of light years,
Where transformed I stood,
On a precipice and understood,
As a young man (again guided by wonder),
The shape-shifting sands of Bayeux.
 
The dunes like clouds shape-changed,
The bass-voice vibrated each grain
And sometimes slowly then quickly,
The starlings as one shifted into wind
Swept contours where faces emerged
Hauntingly surfacing through sand-graves
From the dust-red planet in fits and startled
Laughter, then grimacing, frowning yet
Always wise and playful with others.

I understand head bowed low in
Reverence and anticipation of eternal sapience;
The creature was all and one and then
Nothing retreated but re-surfaced in grains,
Sweeping majesty of silver flecks rained
Onto the redness and the clouds became real:
Here is reality and the unbound genesis of conscience,
That just-reach-out-of-reach of the mind's eye,
Man has and will always feel if never quite touch.

No firework or light-effect but many shades of
Silver, red and black, dancing magically with gravity
Would like to know the whereabouts but hidden
For now until portals open at a sought-after point
Of abstraction where life can interface with truth
And meaning in a cognitive base-layer of being;
Somewhere between a primal misfire and extinction
Of the species after fullfilling the satisfactory
Act of consuming all and thus being devoured by All.

As clouds shifting in the azure scape of meteoric
Resplendance, so the dust blown iron-like filings
On the heated red lava sands formed first a beast
With seven heads and nine tails, to which the beast
Then morphed into a maiden of infinite beauty;
Beckoning siren-like to her sandman suitor,
And then, and only then was I able to speak
Unto the vestal phantom in notes of baritone
That in turn were elevated to a rich fluid falsetto.

And here in the conjoining worlds communicated
The sexless, godless and fearless, for no ego could
Thrive in that hostile yet heaven-like environment;
Whether real or unreal is of little concern when
The enlightenment of work balanced with philosophy
Is finally realised and life reaches a new milestone;
Fear not the beast or the vestal temptress for one is the
Fire and one the attendant to the Hearth and as with
Light and dark there are only forgotten primaries inbetween.

And so the precipice became a magna-alloy frame where 
I stood over-hanging the mighty chasm of fire and meteors,
Hands tightly fixed to the rails, the bridge would never be
Extended for there was really nothing on the other side.
So glad we had our meeting and hope to return one day,
Maybe after life to speak in thunder tones like the one
Who cannot be the one spoke to me on that fateful night,
When starlings converge there is only one, though the clouds
Break up and dissipate, the cycle of precipitation continues.

© Severn Dwyer. 2012

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