Friday, 22 April 2011


If we knew no frustration,
tied to decay in farce of autonomy
a universal word of condemnation
apple falling, stars collapsing
in on themselves
more than Newton knew
heart retracting, stony, cold
on downward course whose light is but the spark of friction;

If tongues joined in with burning orbs in chorus:
but our base noise has toned us deaf to tune,
we hide our eyes beneath blanket orange glow
shaded by our own reflection
and blind, pass buck to Orion's piercing beams.
So aberration, blot in soundscape
Man, of all things made like Word
stand vertically

If we stuck no fingers
in our ears, at Death
- children, pretending
that what they hide their eyes from, isn't there,
if could un-man ourselves, mere brutes
kill Psyche
in a fit of suicide
- homo sapiens (self-adjudged) - thus sine science
deny our soul's here now
that god may die hereafter: with effect;

Then it were no news
that God died there and then
that homo ruined edifice dei, might live again.
Then no good that stone forced back
spilt tuning power to stone in ground and sky and heart to sing.
Then no good news that first fruit risen
ascended, radiant breathing new dynamic
before whom all must fall.

Lest you burn, hide in the Sun.

- RG

Le lever du soleil
Francis Méan © 2006

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