The universe has been talking to me.
Her voice has become incessant.
More so than a de ja vu, a reticent
dream of muted minstrel stretching
warped copper screens and melting
hole sunspots. The ballerina in sepia
pirouettes in triplicate and spins
into oblivion. She is a shadow
person of the soul, a black mirror
lacking the substance and
vulnerability of the real thing.

A crimson mask on my lips,
the god of thunder cracks
lessons I’ve narrated before.
The audience grows sleepy
and impatient for me
to make a decision.
Pale faced and black-eyed,
a perfect jest for the court,
the tragedy a comedy
to the divinely inspired.

Of jade gifts,
satin blue bowed
boxes, and ornate
jars of tempestuous
mystery and
trepidation,
shower gold,
incense and myrrh
upon the crowning glory
of enlightenment and
the acknowledgement
of consciousness,
a two sided coin
of fifty-fifty odds
and a hundred percent
guarantee we get what
we pay for if we’re
brave enough to call
the shot.

Collapsing in on myself,
a consolidation across
the space time continuum,
I become an ouroboros,
devouring my own
flesh until my final form
is found, the strong,
resilient, empowered.

Here and now.
As flow the river of my soul,
the current of the universe
sings to me in swirls
of gravity that resonate
like spheres of music
tacit and sovereign.
They swell inside,
bubble life in their bellies,
glow as guiding stars,
demure and proud;
they re-present themselves
to the world in the slow
wake of recognition
and the contentious ebb
of autonomy.

Before the galactic center
of the galaxy, as a channel
to the core of existence,
the resonance of my personal
truth is known, the fluttering light
a pulse electric, strong and warm
enchanted in scattered prism
heals the fate of man
as promised, but
for the patience of mountains
we brothers and sisters wait
for things never before seen,
for things never before believed;
the unification of man, the diaspora
of miracles, the promise of eternity
crossed the threshold of man
into harmonious rule/
light/creation/wonder.

—

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“Pisces Eyes” is written by Michael Aaron Casares. All rights reserved.
Get your copy of Michael’s collection of poetry collection, The Vanishing Poet from Virgogray Press.