Trauma of the Ego

In his image Let me not contest the fire Diminishing me from desire, Shadow and reflection Erased in aberration empty mirror Seeing light swallowed by the form Too bright for light to show. In this image The last landmark left inviolate Pinnacled on a nest of words Every sentence hatches me stronger Every meaning More eternal I become While longing for the immortal him To up-pole the flag That I may kneel forever still Before who I am ii This narrative of being Provides time's only purpose to me That it may write my unfolding With scraps of unrecalled hisory And each day as I live me over again I closer come to my beginning Which is truly my end And history lapse forever Unable to erase or scramble this again The invisible hunger that irrevocably is my pain: The absolute dawn of one Immortal memory iii And what if some deliberate Enlightenment Change meanings intent? What if in syllables random smoke A dog, inverted like a nine, Formed the word self-evoked? What if earth becomes the heart And words become a sword And life its file Shall evil make us live From mite of time to pride's spider Webbing us again? It seems the isolate batlles the blend Of parts and wills that absolute became: The candle transformed for the glory of the flame. And to I this end The protean proton dissolved in the element And singularity of unchanging moment.