Reincarnation
You offered me a kingdom,
I traveled no further than a
garden I was given to till and
attend; was that first fruit of
your blessed soil, or were my
blossoms on the wrong end?
That apple I bit into, far from
the mansion on the hill, they
were my eyes, my hands that
held the fruit, it was entirely
my will.
That apple so firm and round...
the flesh, so red, the juice so sweet:
coils of ever greater desire wound
round my hands and feet – I have
revisited those circles, taut springs
and gears of hissing, squeaking time.
Like the burgundy of the grape, the press
of the vine, now there were seasons,
light and dark from which to harvest,
absent the hearts, my cultivations
of outer-rind. What is our Sign?
Born in the beginning...searching
an infinite Universe...all lost and
all mine.
Copyright © Joe Dimino | Year Posted 2022
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