Prelude to Ophicius

Prelude to Ophiuchus

Return our earth sea celestial!
To rouse the tides of far off rockaway!
slowly bring within our lungs humble skiff
To furthermore bring to us fine cut oar
Whence we dabble perihelion, conjure a swirling of orbs
To push us further through this doleful eve
And rescue our heroic noble souls
Once ominous purveyors of your stars

For this once crafted crust molten and erupteous
Calmed and cooled to the lapping sprays sodium chloride
That did in the twilight stream of steam forward our atoms,
A ash of health combined in wondrous deliberation
To creature out your lakes and streams, our vaunted
Roofs in heaven, our hidden caverns of hell
Spread forth in germination beautiful beds
Of salt marsh and shadowed habitant under trees

These ferocious deities of creation held obdurate silence
Amongst the sole undetermined beacons of beaming celestial
light
breaking interment-idly into chants, whispers, bellows from the
faults
Creaking and shifting with their joined pull towards a heavenly
father
Milton in his pandered lore, Dante in his established descent
Attempted in quest for human righteousness amidst a body
Christ
Found but only paradise lost
This violent upheaval arose our true soft communion with god

For in these precious beginnings Tiamat and the Titans
overlooked
Surly brutish monsters, and this atmosphere was rained down
upon by fire
Snow in captured but few bones, and now again, we face rest
For we must herald back that this continued rearranging whilst
eradicate us conscious and highminded and breathing off it
As microorganisms with rocket ships to space
We shall be the lost fuel under sediment, forgotten
And in this realization a desperate dance begins

For this power in poetry, in epic design and history
We need incensed sacrifice and summonings to protect us
For the earth has grown weary of our consumptive material
identity,
It is past time that its fruits spiritual will go stolen unnoticed,
It is past time that we have forgotten the force of solar bodies
The deep ancient proverbs and incantations whittled in stone
Born upon the brains of this last generation of children, to save
us

And but what few children of the machine are present
Where now are they present soaking up our rhetoric as pastime,
Just a bit of a hexagon tied to a bit of information digital
That they easily just let the information hit them
Soak all of us in designed memory bank these awful mutants
Beautiful innocent cherubs of ion, light dressed seraph
Are they smiling at you in supermarket, or do they supermarket
An idea amidst untucked stones, shared ruffed up nebulous

This tale is not a burden, it is a search for from a seeker
Those semi connected lecherous instantaneous archivists poet
Daring a bit in unstable transition all of us in satellite earth
Have book passage for, a ship in command of the heavens, this;

Ophiuchus