Followup to my weird Kabbalah YS video that freaked out a bunch of you. Let me know if you like this sort of thing....

~~SCRIPT TEXT~~

INTERROGATING SPACE & TIME

- 1 -

Time & space,
let’s get it straight
once & for all –
who is in whom?

I was taught a lie,
the easy lie, that life
was laid out on a flat page
& you were the vertical
& horizontal coordinates—

& there we were,
everything already plotted out
on the graph of the page
we were squashed onto
at birth.

- 2 -

But I am among the fortunate
of this Springtide of Creation,
resurrected from the one-dimensional,
risen to become part of
the Theater of the Unlimited
stampeding across ageless eternity upon
the white horses of
NOW.

I have felt my blood
flowing in all the rivers of the world,
have witnessed interactions of the people
before me as the Puppet-Show of the Real,

I have seen cars & trucks dancing to divine music,
the very asphalt get up and tango,
& the factories & warehouses doh-see-doh along the sidewalks!

Haphazard commercial boulevards
became the lotus of Divine Beauty,
a motel lobby became
the anteroom of the Beloved.

- 3rd -

Ah, but always,sooner or later,
someone I knew,
someone I loved,
or sometimes a stranger,
a fellow reveler
would take off a mask
and then be standing there sternly with
a hammer & nails
and you, time & space,
who had become
twin white stallions I
was riding standing up,
a foot upon each
of your sleek backs—
(Such is the plasticity
of this world)—

you began to morph
in front of my eyes
until you had become
the two planks of a cross. & I,
nailed up there again.
Perhaps I’d forgotten
to appreciate the freedom,
perhaps like a sorcerer’s
apprentice I’d mis-used it &
the buckets had their revenge.

And then the waiting.
For another eternity, gazing down from
my lonely wooden tower,
chanting desperate prayers until
(never knew when never knew how never knew why)
the Redeemer
came again in some form,
very much as in the show “Joan of Arcadia”
where He came as
a garbage man, a cafeteria lady, someone
she’d never seen before—

and after an invisible, silent
SOMETHING had happened, the nails
of my cross started melting into liquid
and you, time & space, the twin planks,
became wings, & again I
flew:

& the White Castle coffee became
the Wine of Communion;
and the French fries,
the Body of GOD.

- 4 -

Oh dear ones, time & space,
when will I yield
to the One I am? When
will the little impostor-general
whose damnfool behavior gets him
nailed every time

finally give up
the ghost that he is or become
the absolute slave of Love, so that
nothing again ever need interrupt
this silly, extreme Celebration
of the unlimited, winged,
greening, slapstick, protean,
ever-empty
ever-overflowing pageantry of
NOW

All responses welcomed.