Thought Rituals

From Moksha Smith: Agni's Warrior-Sage


by Antonio de Nicolas

He had been told
that God was thought,
so he stopped the rhythm of the sun,
God, moon, stars, wife,
children, flowers, grass
and lined them in his head
with the perfect symmetry of names
in a vacuum of human flesh
nailed to the Cross of Time.

chasing only the movement
of his own thoughts,
an expert in the control
of life's movements,
of the unguarded passion,
of the weak smile
that would have forced him
to come tumbling down
from the lofty heights
of his mountain
to become momentarily depressed
at having to cope
with a world of human flesh.

The man became all left brain

He stopped the sun,
moon, God, stars, wife,
children, flowers, grass
from their own movement
and pinned them up
at the centers of his Euclidian walls
in an effort to control
the rhythm of any movement
other than his thoughts.
The world stopped in the heavens,
in the sky, at home
securely hanging
like paper on the walls
from his interior neon light,
a moth mesmerized by the shining
of thought alone
with no human gestures left
but to sit in his armchair
and watch the trophies
his thought had shot
in the struggle to survive
a life born in the womb
of a library
by the incest of two thoughts.

The philosopher sat for so long
resting  on his thoughts
that while all the world
rose up by the path of moonrays
his body became a stain
in the armchair's cloth.

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