Wednesday, May 13, 2009

अंकल अल Fourteen

Eyes wide open, open and shut
Watching the inner and outer realms
Looking within the soul, within the teacup
Whose leaves paint your life within it's clay
Leave that dance within the oolong waters
Spinning tales of days gone past
A watcher in a field of illusion
He, Manong, is this
Collecting truths within a bag of faith
Truth pulled from raw earth
It's clay smooth to the touch
Cool within fingers feeling for warm tradition
Fingers that dig through the fields
Looking for that many faceted Gem
The stone of many colors
Many paths
Paths leading to the same destination
Albeit through different fields of many colors
The fields of illusion
Where the seed are planted
Where dreams are born
Where the watcher watches
Waiting for the fire
Gathering it's flames from an ancient torch below
Flickering endlessly
Far on the horizon
At the end of the fields
Where the sun drops from the sky
Where sky turns to dust
Born to the fields are a fabled life
Eyes of the watcher waiting for time
Watching like a moth to flame
Prometheus blinded by the light
Of a dream within a thought
Wings of wax melt into his mind
The flame grows
Growing within his eyes
The watcher watches
Upon a rock of tradition
He views his kingdom of clay
It's slippery slope a cautionary tale
Of temporary residence
Upon this mortal plane
His eyes sparks as crimson flows
Like ink from his pen
His being the pulp that forms a foundation
Upon which words are born
Into thoughts
Darkness into light
His sits upon his throne behind the fallen sun
The emperor of seeds now sown
The master of an empire of words
The watcher watches
His words lay foundations
Built on words cast in dirt
His pen a sword upon which destiny is slain
A warrior's heart fights the shadows
Shadows found within the rooms housing his mind
A kind man's soul of perpetual reprieve
He asks for nothing from his Kingdom of gold
He shines from an inner light
A light that shatters the darkness, null and void
He watches the tea leaves
Leave that dance, spinning a tale
Like the silk within his robe
It's threads bound together the life he led
Led upon this mortal plane
Within his life, he is reborn
Ten thousand times like the tea leave's patterns
As they caress the earthen cup
A cup born from his empire of earth
His empire of dust
His story completed upon this Earth
His journey not ended, simply just begun
A friend to the animals
A balance to nature
His eyes gaze down upon the shadows of the valley
His heart raises up towards the fallen sun
The skies grow dark as twilight is born
Stars cast a glimmer on his rocky throne
The tea leaves settle, their pattern it stops
As the darkness it comes
But, the tea pours once more
Into the earthen cup
Leaves spin, dancing the Oolong waltz
His journey starts again
Against a distant horizon
Within the blood red sun
As it falls behind the world
Manong Al laughs
He knows his journey has just begun

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