Epistles, Enigmas, Errors, and Emancipation

Once upon a time, ever so briefly, I lost touch with who I was and became the principal subject of yet another Big Bang. Having received that news, I sent epistles of my doings by way of constellations etched throughout our heavens and called attention to all manner of objects upon our newborn earth. ‘I am,’ I said, as ‘are you.’ Please know that ‘I am’ not your master because each of us creates what we see. Our connection is our shared creativity…

Blessed of
fellow Apostles
why chant for me?
To profess your faith
you forage for my lore
upon our earth
that you may
attain reward in your own heavens.

Professors of
fellow Apostles
why contemplate me?
You digest life’s epistles
and meme legends of
our constellations
only to scratch them in awe
as if on cave wall rock.

Shaman of
fellow Apostles
why bleed for me?
You conjure mystic sacrificial Lambs
your sons splayed across an altar
while nailing mine upon a cross
that you may perpetuate
a long-gone yet desperately living…