POEM

BRAD FOR PRES

Even though I knew, like I knew nothing else on this earth, that I was going to
get there, and the prescience was intense, definite, twisting in and out of shapes
that resisted it as it pressed through all the necessary moves of that passage,
through every watering hole that nurtured the alliance with myself, every place I
had to go to that was never the place I was going, and so much of it was obvious,
unshakeable, growing and strong, rooted like the clasping of the hand in
everlasting friendship, and it lay there embedded in the child’s and the youth’s
bosom alike, an assurance that, come what may, never left, only built through
every tremor, every quake, proof against weather or climate, sickness and small
deaths, broke out in spasms of rejection that flung aside all lesser habitations,
lesser roles…

notwithstanding this, the destination itself was encrypted, and my interpretation
and the conclusions I drew from the data clearly awry; I see now that any choice
about how my sense of identity pans out is actually pretty restricted….I guess you
know what I mean here – ha

fact is, I had myself positioned in a vastly different seat in the transforming role I
knew would come where I’d exercise the prophetic voice, and though there’s now
little doubt about that speaking out bit, I have to say this wasn’t quite what I had
in mind….though I’m trying to make the best of it =L

as for the sheaves of wheat, the stars, the moon and the sun, all those dreams
wrapped in many colours and all the rest of it…how in the name of science does
all that ever come to pass?

because no way can I shed any light on how any of this

could be the genesis
of any of that….

vw june 2012

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