the myth caterwauling

once time rolls back on time

takes seed as metaphor

planted amongst decay,

flowers in the way

stir these seeds

of recreation.

the fruits of the earth

has seven levels

and three great movements.

old woman, crone on the fringe,

weaving words of wisdom

until that black dog comes

to unravel.

stories of woe

spring from caterwauling folk,

create, sustain, unwind

a recreation litany

behind a veil of tears,

nature and culture.

rootless, powerless, ruthless, futureless

-all the woes of the world in one word,

meaningless!

we all need wilderness

reweaving a better design,

myths give meaning.

cataclysmic loosening,

fire burns the otherworldly

phoenix,

behind the obvious world.

when the apocalypsis veil lifts

drum beats drum,

and those in rhythm with nature,

the people of the earth

survive and undulate.

standing in the midst

of myth,

wail, yowl, ululate...

break ground,

become the healer..

the cure for pain is in the pain.

in the beginning

manu! manu! manu!

words separated,

then it was the fish

that spoke of flood

and kept the ship afloat.

ancients and the greeks

unwrap the soul

in the two agreements.

the green garment

wraps our soul,

local and eternal,

in the biblical fire of becoming.

dream our new myth

reborn in folk caterwauling,

owl screeching...

great turtles all the way down,

shadows can travel

faster than the speed of light,

touch the soul of the world

in footprints of imperfection.

walk through to the future

it can change the past,

teach your children empathy

instead of competition.

mythology-

what will be will be,

it’s been told from generation

to generation.

we must not question our dreams,

they are our creation.

the myth caterwauling!