deepundergroundpoetry.com
At The Intersection Of The Cross
The sun sets
The rain falls
The jungle decays, and cycles begin a new:
Daylight ends where the other world
turns upside down
across the sky.
The stars
(hungry eyes) ride the scales
on the crocodile's back, on the river to Xibalba:
The black water consumes the rain forest,
it floods the foot prints of ancestors: Howling unfed spirit dogs
from a billion-trillion pinpoints of light, piercing illusions
in dense undergrowth:
Mother Jaguar, ancient steward,
watches with ruthless grace our slow drift toward destiny,
our pulsing
beating
sacrifice
in hand.
The rain falls
The jungle decays, and cycles begin a new:
Daylight ends where the other world
turns upside down
across the sky.
The stars
(hungry eyes) ride the scales
on the crocodile's back, on the river to Xibalba:
The black water consumes the rain forest,
it floods the foot prints of ancestors: Howling unfed spirit dogs
from a billion-trillion pinpoints of light, piercing illusions
in dense undergrowth:
Mother Jaguar, ancient steward,
watches with ruthless grace our slow drift toward destiny,
our pulsing
beating
sacrifice
in hand.
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