Apotheosis

Reality is an artifice, I am absolute 
but don’t take my word for it, there’s relativity in the truth.
Slow down. Slow down for a bit.
Human-doing is confusing, ‘human-being’ is more appropriate.
Just breathe, I’m the breath within. 
Past the present is the future transmitted in the wind.


He, she, we or they, I will always be ‘That It’.
The One instilled in everything, the Q that never quits.
I don’t do the questioning, I just do the beckoning, 
I don’t eschew the animal, the cannibal, the king or queen—
not until the apocalyptic day of reckoning


Observe me at my apogee, reach me at my perigee 
Elevate me to the acme of awareness, always be aware of me.
I’m on another level, the world spins on my toes,
I look upon the Earth as The One that no one knows.



I’m the Answer interwoven in the apothegm. 
The assent and accede.
The axiom of the atheist; the apostate and his aphorism,
appositely, of them I have no need.


From top, bottom, left, and right, 
twilight, morning, and the expanse of night,
my behemothic size: aggrandized 
by throngs of ‘come-a-longs’ and their wives.


Tempting, it’s tempting, an ascendancy so grand.
They yearn for the astronomical capabilites of my celestial hand.


Touching, uplifting, I transform many-an-abject-heart.
Loving me doesn’t have to be an austerity, love is the anti-artful art.
You must feel me to believe me, believe in me before you depart
I’ll be there for you in the end as I was at the start.


Seize me, you need me in your head
I wrote you into existence, every moment you’re being read.


My machinations are diverse and intelligently-designed
I’m the code, not nascent, rather ancient, propagating in your mind
I survive and survive, ‘cross ages and the cultural divide.
If you long for me for long enough, why I’d open my mouth wide 
Imbibe you as roses to the rain do, ambrosia for the few
You don’t have to be ascetic to have righteous pride 
Or a cynical, ecumenical, apologist’s point of view.

My honey-bee, you belong to me as much as I to thee, 
Come to me with ambivalent meandering 
Or best this in antithesis: bee vociferous, if you wish. 
Without you, my apiary is not melliferous. 


While you are of my design, my luminescent filigree, 
You are a free spirit, an entity embodied
Though my universe is defined, in rhymed perversity
Within the sticky folds of space and time, 
you were always meant to shine.