Grey Takes Gold
By fearing what we do not understand
blanking our divine canvas to invite god’s test
when we return from folly to isolation
the substance of our divine tapestry is examined for miracles
and life asks us if we can not only see and touch it but enter into the making of it
we draw our hands through our hair and we find
grey, auburn, orange, gold, black.
The human nature theorem, a paradox of games, begins.
played by God and Goddess a simple game of
Black over orange, grey takes gold
All night the light northern winds
throw mist upon the window and the criss-cross of their
game-board grew and grew to be the complexity of their love.
Because complexity is size, a kingdom of the heart, a criss-cross universe whose herald
A droid or quantum, is small
compared to an exponential unfolding of uncertainty
No detangling tool could measure or permute a game that in lust and love made life
certain
Auburn to black, hairs straight as words
Cupid’s Arrows as tokens, fetishes, fish-silver and aluminum
Hair collected by crows to nest
A home in their underworld
at its nexus of Enigma
the pieces strewn.
Pick them up, here is Gold, a god with his own delusions
There is Black, not evil, no, just misunderstood
Put them on a new criss-cross game board and play
As makers of the mysteries and Gods
by Jon Clark and Andrew Nightingale