The Sprigs and Spirit of Sistine -1

Poetry, paint and the birth of a world in a whirl the Dark and the Light do swirl yet obey the dawn and dusk I do unfurl above the alter I, the Almighty forge form from their spectral sexuality, the dichotomy of their desires a dervish on the pools of people's souls and tastes on the textures of temporal terra firma, As I stretch and stir to stimulate the steaming stars my brow burns with sympathetic love as the sun's unquenchable fire shimmers on the sweat of my unmistakable face and the moon's melancholic majesty mimicks the paternal might that compels me to allow that which must be, for in this moment I turn to temper the Earth to touch the truth of it's awakening, Gliding in virginal geometry I am the aerial Architect seperating sumptuous sky from hot heaving seas, orchestrating the laws of water and wind carving the continents with my crystalline fingernails, I make creatures that creep and leap from the designs of my chimerical dreams making a garden of all the rich and pleasant things that my heart knew how to love I dreamt of myself, of my ideal and from the warmest clay imbued with pure salt and speckles of gold I sculpted the first Man with nothing more than my bloodied breath, and as he lay with longing eyes waiting for the reason of life I flew to him like a starving fire desperate to ignite his silent soul, my retinue of anxious angels carrying the weight of this wonderment as the spirit of my first Daughter braces my arm with brash innocence trepidated by the temptation of companionship with the presage of their future child present, As Adam roamed curious and cautious like a child walking in the charm of shallow freedom we spoke about the names of nature, we mused on why water had weight discussed how things change yet remain perfect, he was smitten by shape and color, Adam's joy of soft enlightenment was becoming shadowed though, I could feel a loneliness in his expressions like leaves falling forever, his heart was experiencing a need to share in which his intellect could not define and this abstract pain foretold of torture for I could see that Man was not destin to be alone, I told Adam to close his eyes and to travel to the center of Time, in so doing I induced a sleep of stone on him, he was beautiful stillness, my hand pierced the side of his body snapping Adam's lowest rib, the sound was like lightning, from it's marrow and a pinch of magic I made Woman commanding her forth from his wounded flesh, she rose to me asking...What am I to be... I answered...You are to be the Mother of Mankind... and so I named her Eve... J.A.B. This is the first of 17 poems that make up this composition...J.A.B.