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Mandaran Vigil Exploding flares in the darkness of the mind expanding like the universe it is a part of ... mindful of Rumi & that other man who cast the Zohar into the flames which could not annihilate the pale embers of serpent knowledge curling into ash O red rose in the hand of a god! O black feather fallen from the sky! I address myself to the seven who never sleep, masters of the whirling robes, in the name of the celestial hat & the tassels which swirl - I looked into the mirror and see instead a pane of clear glass, no broken stair's grievance but a heart unleaving itself like an artichoke disappearing into the invisibility of its own original essence. So would I tear all the gold from wrists & necks & under glass counters gleaming & melt it into a river to be poured back into the earth from which it came. Like a madman burying precious jewels I rush backwards down the mobius strip of the future hoping to meet myself coming the other way. As I turn on one foot describing an endless circle around myself a god beings to laugh thru the cave of my mouth & I myself have become a golden shofar calling you to witness the mark of Cain returned to the finger from which it sprung palpable as a violent wind or a flame to its fire. O inward shimmering on the altar of self! O outward glimmering of a distant star! I turn past your sly cornice in the sky & behold my own head held in the severed hand! Let the tines of all forks vibrate in unison as the uncertain foot is withdrawn from the bloodred carpet before the unblinkng eye in the dark chambers of His imagery ... A finger stirring a glass of water makes a wave run across the Pacific and all karma rushes backwards like shadows of migrating birds in the rising sun of a last minute pardon or cosmic jailbreak. All eggs are perfect revenant specters of unconscious illumination/ Who said phantom ships never make port?
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