Beneath the Stars

‘Blood Moon at the Solstice’ – yamabuki
“So long was I on the northern frontier,
Even my dog growls at my footsteps,
I had hoped to sing with my friends
Beneath the stars on my return,
But some have died,
And two have moved to Pyongyang,
Much the same thing.”
— Hong Ki Bo (1665 – 1710)
Is this the hidden side of  the moon
A strangeness taught from an early age
teaching a new song of desire
That school and language force feed
Our children remade into something new
We learn to eat up the world with our words
Breaking up the mountains and oceans 
Shattering their wholeness into pretty words
Making bird song a kind of blasphemy
And banishing our soul to the moon
Trees and birds light up the dawn
Their songs covering the sky
Arching past wind blown leaves
Piercing the moon light
With their shadowy lines
Then the day begins again
Night banished to some other realm
We see that it has rained again
The worms and snails are frolicking
Soon the birds will have their breakfast
The fish by the lake still swim sleepily
Their watery dreams still fresh in their heads
Light on the water reflecting their moods
While thunder rustles faintly on the hilltops
A lone crane stands waiting
Rasputin was sitting in a tavern
Lilith came over and sat down with him
Rasputin introduced himself 
“I am no one special at all. 
I’m here the same as we all are.”
Lilith poured a drink for him and herself
Saying nothing she looked him in the eyes
When the music began, she asked him to dance
Back at the table they talked of small things
He winked at her shyly and she smiled
“They say I’m a temptress” she said
“But I just want to love you.”
He reached over and stroked her hand
Sitting quietly in the soft light they touched
A sad song played as their eyes met again
Rasputin suggested a walk in the moonlight
Hand in hand under the stars they strolled
Cold clouds drifted in speaking of rain
Close by the river Neve flowed coldly
Singing a dirge of Rasputin’s demise
Maitreya felt troubled by his future birth
Moonlight shone darkly from his eyes
Fear and sadness twisted his heart
Humanity’s fate his heaven and hell
Beyond the perimeters of madness
Everyone would resent his strange appearance
His dark eyes hypnotic and sparse
His Cheshire smile of twigs and coal
Sharpened by lightning in dead of the night
More Abraxas than devil in his actions
How are we to judge the gait of his soul
How are we to know the currents in his skull
This madman of God who speaks to the sun
Disappearing at night in yellowing fogs
Traveling to hells where no one would go
Maitreya, The bodhisattva not yet born
Already here in the midst of our lives
He comes not to save or judge us
Nor wake us from our nightmares
He would sing with us beneath the stars
April 2011

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