Resurrection

/ Daniel Swearingen

For below me on this mountain, there is a charm, and it knows me, by my sacred name, by my secret name it knows me, and now it loves me, oh how it loves me, in magic it resurrects me. In eternal letters it speaks me.

Resurrection comes in parts, it breathes in pain, it comes in dreams, revealed when nothing else will start. Rising, fulfilling, like a daemon it titillates then comes screaming from the dusk, of what was left in my devil filled heart. Barren oh barren, this broken mind so filled with as many broken parts. Razed, these bones, my white, white bones, nothing left so tossed about, ignored by your light when it would roam.

Resurrection it comes in minor keys. Those long dead scenes, when all is silent, mocking emptiness, that’s when there’s wind that blows on through. Life from the undead, needing spirit, for blood is common, so common, and only breath will do. And it seemed such a little place, I decided to die, such a bitter, lonely, single space, but still filled with pride. For it would not be by my own hand, by dusk my own demise, oh such a drama I thought it true, by G-D’s own will denied. But then thought came in such surprise.

It was upon the mountain, oh my, I think you rolled yourself across my skin. Such a sweet breeze, oh EL, that part of my name, that syllable of fresh fantasy. Adonai, there you are, air upon my flesh, resurrection upon the eastern fire filled sky. And I’m alive immortal in your timeless wind. For below me on this mountain, there is a charm, and it knows me, by my sacred name, by my secret name it knows me, and now it loves me, oh how it loves me, in magic it resurrects me. In eternal letters it speaks me.

Resurrection is not dusk, morning light, or sexual touch. It brings itself if destiny wills, upon G-D’s love or maybe whats real. And I don’t know, why it sought me, alone, inhuman, dark by need, but that could be it, thats a clue. Maybe a divination on the mountain where I stood.  Maybe lonliness, maybe because I thought I could.  For to understand spirit, of the ruach, by his touch, is to rise in air, on this world, immortal, and touch the fine lines of the face of G-D. – 09.30.2016-
דָּנִיֵּאל


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