When Cherubs sleep
by Allan W. Traphagan
Bogwan Maharishni, sits cross-legged in
a Lotus chair, chanting beneath
heavy Magnolia blossoms
infested with leathery green leaves,
loaded with curious white Doves
all lined up on a heavy bough
gently swaying across a great yellow moon.
HIs Citar plucks staccato thoughts from
my mind, where mystery was peace,
in the eye of thunder claps announcing
new revelations to me.
Yet, unlike the Swami,
I refuse to starve to death in ecstasy.....It haunts my Soul to see the Cherubs sleep,
and the Moonlight upon their wings.
Every day I know that this tiny blue world
is sinking deeper and deeper into cold black
so deep that His voice is like a faint
I remembered that I have never learned to
forget, and I can still feel that eternal loving
anger from Eden