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A MINISTER RETIRES :  
SOLILOQUY 

I arise as infant Phoenix 
from Akasha ashes 
counterparts frozen 
with foibles intact
a still Arctic of death
sheath for recalibration 

Source Light breathes into 
fontanelle slowly sleepily  
Sekmet my doula  
in full attendance 
mane of flaming gold
rebirthing is a peeling

Eye of Horus given a 
new sphere fringed 
with trinklets of tears
exploding from narrow 
roads of endless debate
drowning misqualified 
alphabets as dung 
mites on mushrooms 
under cold tap

Trampling temples of 
fallen crests in takkies 
I don after tight armour 
of stick-on sly smiles
airports and landing 
circuits blow as flimsy 
masks in South Easter
three terms of office 
sacrilegious time to 
imprint what was 
already foretold 

A reflection I sombrely 
seek in languid lamplight 
at a bed bearing 
matrices dismantling
It’s not there ! 

Where are pieces of the 
puzzle in pentagons 
I failed to reckon
turning my back on a 
disappointed bathotic
vision flying to fulfill a 
mission of combining 
silicon with carbon
minds with Hearts in 
God’s play with forms 
for happiness ?

Is the reflection in rivers
I can no longer hear
as pebbles pine in 
sortilege for ill used 
linearity down paths 
of broken glass 
my kundalini a rod of 
dead wood in a tomb 
centre of Sakara or 
maybe on a pile in 
the garage ready for 
a great bonfire whilst 
I start to wipe away 
hasty speeches
bored back-benchers 
secretaries depositing 
secrets ?

I seek this disappearing 
reflection in offspring 
make-upping games 
of six sense futures 
pulling Agarthan darkness 
from low note cemeteries
or open air discos
AI watching for names 
or photographs it could 
crunch or repose
heritage posters 
smashed stolen
then hidden
historians writhing 
in shame

Slowly I tear notes of
workshops unmanifested
White Papers incomplete 
legislation not passed 
little love sigils from
infatuated girlies
bones softening then 
regenerating when I 
remember my curriculum 
is not complete 
really I am ageless 
even after covid and
coronary thrombosis
saying the least 

In which dimension 
lies my youthful cheeks
or other Wheels of Fortune
black hair not greyed
a father never embraced 
my mother at her crying 
sewing machine hailed 
by ancient Dogans who 
know my wayward ways 
of sense fulfilment ? 

Suddenly a trout springs 
next to my sinking hook
or was it a gangster lost ?
perhaps vacant dollars
I caught on rows of 
predictable faces
podiums polished
by workers I sought to 
hold in a heartbeat 
no-one could distinguish 
from controlled chatter
subtle lies of manic
mental real estate 

In an instant a dragonfly 
displays its translucent 
wings mirroring patterns 
of my dark amber irises
Can I lift a paintbrush 
as shadows fall to 
dissipate memories of
State Capture in  
Fire and Water I now 
must befriend tip-toeing 
ethereal dreams when 
wigs or false lashes 
sink into oceanic 
depth? 
Air the witness 
as I walk a solitaire 
beach this reflection 
I seek still emphatically 
eludes

Grace comes minuscule 
in moon shades or 
pale protea nectar 
to give saintly shape 
to feelings encrusted 
with rust or dinners 
I could not taste
hundreds of them
having to survive 
a quagmire of 
Reptilians 

All falls away as Saturn 
appears for his share of 
karma in this year of 
eight, eclipsing my own
six zero plus two
calling back his protégés
from dramas doctrinally 
acted
Socrates or Shakespeare 
pointing out stages I 
trod and trod and trod
my mill not stopping 
for a breathing whisper 
to hear a call of Gaia
reintegrate her lush 
fallen lips
cathedral feet
dilating Heart 
of lulling fruits 

This Reconnection has 
no lines or silk panties
doctors’ needles or
peppermint teas 
whilst its patterns I 
cannot decipher or 
reach with trade 
agreements 
fashion mobiles 
fancy words 
bright ideas
tangy thoughts or indigo 
sheen foreheads of 
daughters and son

It is just Sky with I
a speck, maybe a 
hook to an ajar door 
or portal I read about 
in sci-fi as rampant 
lost kid
perhaps there is a 
latch or key I need 
to find once more
into another flower 
of life from this 
grid experience 

My calling to diffuse 
into Rays is several 
more lifetimes away
seraphim cannot yet 
hear my mournful 
sighs or see these 
sorrowed smiles
wily embeds are 
too deep to crush with
takkied toes unsure 
on this blue-green 
of highs and lows 
semblance of my 
Orion traverses 

Solace is to rotate 
my spine to live 
another life serving 
not an irresistible 
country of contrasts
giving vent to the 
epitome of human 
dualities 
or an egoic will 
sense pleasures 
mind of magical
chi, white and black
but try for freeing 
my soul yokes from 
moving perceptions
slipping away to
new dawn times 
or perhaps attempt 
for my Maker’s 
indecipherable 
inscrutable 
Heart

Will I embrace 
this solace ?

I tread on half awake
tagging a forlorn 
shadow watching for
lions


©GhairoDanielsPoetry
&Song2024
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