Whale and Bird

 
God-blue-whale cruises through the liquid space
of his unlimited reality,
imagining vast populated worlds
within himself; these glowing dream-worlds float
within the cruising blue whale as he dreams.

A ragged bird forms in his abdomen;
it lies chest-upward, still inside of him –
the giant, ragged predatory bird
encloses many of those glowing worlds
that hover in the blue whale’s abdomen.

The whale extrudes the bird; the bird is born.
It’s now outside the blue whale’s abdomen
but holds itself there, pressed against the whale,
its chest against the blue-whale’s abdomen;
it clings with piercing claws and ragged wings.

A predator, a giant parasite,
clings chest-up to the blue-whale’s abdomen –
a vulture-parrot-crow with hateful eyes,
stab-stabbing God-flesh with its gory beak;
it constantly adjusts its piercing grip.

The worlds within the vulture’s gut remain
within its gut, but they have now become
realities – the bird’s birth made them real,
and their inhabitants are separate selves
self-consciously inhabiting these worlds.

Our world’s a rotting carcass in the gut
of an enormous predatory bird
with ragged wings that clings chest-up to God,
stab-stabbing upward with its gory beak,
its beak and talons puncturing God’s flesh.

God’s son – Thor, Heracles, and Yeshua –
descends into the bird and leads us out
through cluttered intersecting corridors,
up damaged stairwells.  We evade the guards;
the red-eyed specters don’t quite see us pass.

We’ve left the rotting world; we’ve left the bird.
We’re in God-blue-whale once again; we’re home.
We’re him; we dream ourselves; we’re dreaming worlds
within ourselves, dream-worlds in which we live
as dream-men dreaming our own histories.

…

Am I in fact within the Holy One –
a blue whale swimming through infinity,
the endless sea that is somehow himself?

Am I in fact a drop condensed within
the Holy One, a drop of his own mind?

Perhaps the ragged predatory bird
that I imagined, clinging with its claws
to His exterior, beak-stabbing Him
repeatedly, our world within its gut
(as I concluded) was illusory –
a phantom generated by my fear.

But why was I afraid?  What can I fear
if I’m a drop within the Holy One,
a condensation of His intellect?

I’m drawn apart from His reality
within him – separated from the Self
that I have been, the self I really am.

The force that separates me from myself,
the force that is His own projected force,
which He projects within himself, appears
as this great hateful ragged clutching bird.

…

The streets and public halls and vehicles
are full of beastly humanoids – man-apes,
man-rats, man-cows, man-dogs, man-arthropods –
with savagely intense or bleary eyes,
tight predatory or loose drooling lips.
They shuffle, scamper, amble, scurry, trot –
degenerate warped blurry images
of an original humanity
that God imagined and imagines now.