Whatever that is shining behind you

Whatever that Maker of Shadows resembles

Whatever the nature of your Shadow

Whatever you do with the Shadow
Whatever your fear of it
Whatever the bead of sweat on your back tells you to feel

Whatever your holy books tells you
Whatever any God-keeper says you should do for penance
Whatever the fetish you keep in your pocket prescribes
Wherever the trees tell you walk to avoid your Shadow

Don’t listen

Turn and embrace that slippery wraith and listen to the whispered name you were born with
The one that no one wants you to know
The one that holds your power
The one that the rest of this forward lurching world seems to have forgotten

The one that grounds you

The one that explains why darkness trails you even in the strongest light
The one that makes the light visible at all

You!

Tower of smart dirt,
intelligent water, 
column of excited minerals
drawn up into a storm
of atoms chattering of prophecy
and the pure light
hidden in crevices:

all you want to talk about
is money and power
and the end of the world?
Get serious.

This world is not going to end.
Our species may shuffle off at some point,
perhaps soon; other species will fall with us,
there will be suffering, it’s all a big mess,

but your atoms are going to keep talking
and in a thousand years
come upon better truth
than you ever conceived…
or the same truth you won’t acknowledge now:

we’re an extension of
the pure thought of stones,
as ruled by infinite gods as they are.
Nothing’s going to stop them
from thinking, no matter how hard
we deny.

You!
Get serious.
Ease suffering, redistribute wealth,
play fair, establish guidelines,
make this a comfortable grave indeed,

but do it because it is the call of joy
to do this,
not because you will create
anything lasting
by doing so.