We are universes unborn-
you and I -
dimensions yet to be formed -
hidden here in plain sight.
Time and Space have no more consequence
Than the opinions of those
who believe they set the boundaries,
and make the rules.
If you listen
you can almost hear angels laughing.

goodnight

When it happens, it happens quickly -
a small crack will appear
and the ossified personification
of one of your most revered gods will crumble.

And that is when the true magic will begin.
When you realize that what spills forth
is not all miracles,
beauty and wisdom -
Much of it is ugly, disappointing, even petty -

and all too human.

Bit by bit, your past
will try to distract you from the present,
so it can steal your future.

This is how we become ghosts
in our own lives.

I realize at last
That I can not be God.
I feel the pain of others too deeply,
Which would inevitably lead me
To end pain and suffering -
Probably even discomfort.
I would, no doubt, answer the prayers
Of people in need and trouble.
I would try to make life fair.

I have come to the painful realization
That such actions would in turn
Blunt the tools we use to sculpt our souls
Into strong, beautiful and unique pieces of a universe
I can not begin to comprehend.

Therefore, in light of this weakness,
I must respectfully withdraw
My application for the position .
I will seek a different position elsewhere,
For which I am better suited -
A friend, perhaps, a parent or teacher

Someone who cares a lot,
But controls very little.

We exist
As a reflection of the creative force
That drives the universe.
It imbues our cells,
Our molecules,
Our spirits.

As children, we did not hesitate
To pretend,
To imagine,
To make up songs and stories,
To paint and draw,
To dance and sing -

Another joyful voice in the choir of the universe.

So tell me why
Do you hesitate now?
Why do you hide behind self made limitations and fears -
Excuses that become the walls of your cage,
Your prison cell -
Your tomb.

Why do you say
that you are not one of THEM -
The gifted, the talented, the artistic -
(As if we were not all made from the same stardust)
Repeating it over and over like a mantra-
that could absolve you of your responsibilities,
Your role,
Your unique harmony in the song of creation.
Oh, what arrogance!
What hubris!

Now that you have accepted the seeds
Of my work
(My sentences, words, marks or noises)
Into the womb of your soul
My (our) artwork can be born

I will not be present for the birth
Nor will I ever truly know
What we have brought into the world
what it means to you
But I hope you will love
And nurture it
And that it nurtures you in return

New gods are rising
Up from the mud
At the place where streams of blood
Fed by the violence of ignorance and greed
Flow together at last
Into the great river

New gods are rising
Beautiful and strong
From the sacrifices of the oppressed
The marginalized, ignored, the mocked and reviled
New faces, new races
The mud of the river

New gods are rising
Free of the chains
And fetters of antique gender expectations
Not willing to be defined or bound by anatomy
Only spirit and dreams
Down by the river

Old white gods in dotage
Behind their great walls
Are blinded by their own reflections
In the highly polished arrogance of power and wealth
Unaware of the river
And the mud and the blood

And the battle ahead