Before the Furrow

The Paradise
     that no one knew was needed
Where skies stretch wide, 
   a silence speaks the day.

The ancient people 
     worked the soil, 
        yet minds on wings,
With calloused hands on 
  Golden vortex plows 
     and thoughts 
   blinded by third eyes
worlds away.

Their knowledge blooms beneath
     the morning light 
   a dawn with
Long sinewy links
        behind our former selves

In fields where peace 
   sown like seeds of distant stars
     Blooming

Eternal springs of healing waters
        And whispered winds 
     bering fruit of calm and grace.

No war or greed disturbed 
     the birds that sang
   A long forgotten tune 
A haunted melody lost to time

A cultured land, 
   a people face to face 
     with transcendent ecstasies
  On the backs of giant Fandors  
        Flying
Above the verdant Eden

They harvested stars, 
  charted the distant worlds,
While roots run deep 
     in earth’s verdant eternal bond;

   The pomegranates 
  The psychic pulse 
that moves in harmony
   with the phantom grace
and fully sympathetic vibration 

A quiet strength 
             that lies 
 in realms beyond imagination 
Every rebirth a little essence
     of the star child memories 
        Lost

With science pure and 
   minds forever free,
They found in nature, all eternity.
  A whisper of 
     what once 
  sang from every heart 
From every blazing chakra.

Listen Deeply 
  in these times of trouble 
Resonances are ringing
   Above and below 

In reality what is it
   in the deepest mirror?
Too strange 
   to be just a withering body

     Just the unspoken
     Magnificent Truth 
beyond the veil of reality

In shadows, they are still
        Forgotten 
     Just below the plow’s 
   pulsating blade
Waiting to unfurl 

Scot Gresham-Lancaster
Brunswick Maine
October 12, 2024