POEM 307: THE LOST SYMBOL
searching for lost symbols
on the walls of an abandoned shrine.
i feel my heart ache like silhouette fingers,
flipping through heretic scripts
and grabbing at the bread of life,
for succor, salvation, silvery illumination.
like the ancients, I am awakened,
to my insatiable longing for cosmic mysteries,
though both Eden and the serpent, mock me.
the gods gives crescent hints,
to the Arab,
drops a kernel for the Yorubas,
Shiva saunters into the orients
and a virgin and her son
become godmother and God’s son to the Romans.
conflicting, all of them,
though they are a necessary creeds
that fuels me on and drives me closer, maybe,
to a creator, I can’t see, maybe
i cannot deny my intense longing for cosmic mysteries,
to see it and have it and be it.
i cannot pretend that its fascinating mysteries,
and many requirements –
does not press down upon me like a crushing weight –
as piety, and tithings, and negligence of earthly pleasures –
is it that simple?
i see my soul as a lost symbol,
floating in space,
will the lost be found?