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The place of the meeting of minds;
When all is said and done;
Upon the checkerboard of fates;
In suspension along the dream paths;
Beyond the borders of time;
~
Into horizons of never before;
To a place where all may adore;
A place of creation;
Amongst all the spheres;
Who have recieved their colors;
Like medals of honor;
According to the records of their deeds;
~
They are all gathered in a great hall in rows;
No color has yet been created;
One can peer into and see their clarity;
For the ones that are cloudy;
They are escorted out another way;
~
All are before the great roving eye;
It is suspended atop like a chandelier;
There are no words to be spoken;
Their fates rest with the images of time;
That the smokeless fire reveals;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
In the Lake of Reflections where one can see;
Their own actions of another time;
There is no smokeless fire here;
Or words upon a wall-only images to keep;
The truth that will bear all;
~
It is the place where one must cross;
Over the Bridge of Spheres;
One must peer into the lake;
It is a time of solace and fears;
For in the reflections are the images of their past;
Of which they must admit to their presence;
Fragrant flowers or unthinkable stench;
One thing or another will resonate to the surface;
It shall be played to all that cross;
So they may see their record of deeds;
Before entering the Great Hall;
Where the Roving Eye will greet them;
For they shall sit in rows and be assigned;
According to what the smokeless fires present;
Which is their record in the time of another place;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
My last recollection was of the dawn;
Now it seems to be past dusk;
That is an odd spiral that acsends;
Is it the morning star in the distance;
I have no recollection of a prior memory;
I am a sphere within a sphere;
There is no other color before me;
Or within myself;
It just seems as if there is a destiny;
That pulls in one certain direction;
It takes me not by force;
I am led to believe that there is no choice;
But where else is it that I would go;
It feels as if there is a roving eye ahead of me;
And a place where I can see myself as I appear;
These are mere images that come to me;
As I travel towards what appears to be;
The morning star;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
That man bird Quigleanamos;
Who sits perched in my view;
He has come out of his crater once again;
To share in my meal and lick the morning dew;
He is in the cornerposts of my columns;
Fresh on my mind;
Stars abound encircling him;
In the horns of plenty he shall find;
Others like he-but none more like me;
Quigleanamos shall never flee;
The meeting of our minds out in the cosmos;
As shooting stars go by;
I am too feeble to search out another friend;
And he is too feeble to fly;
We shall talk about the nebula;
The many moons at cresent that appear;
It is a mutual understanding we have;
That has always been very clear;
What are days to either of us;
Each one is a cluster of how we cope;
Quigleanamos is nearby as I;
We climb together the mountain slope;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Ocosomemuh has come to visit me;
His companion is Yatoquemark;
Yato is like Oco's remorah that cling to a shark;
In the other world from where I was at one time;
Before I made my journey and began to climb;
What news will Oco bring me from places beyond;
Where I have yet traveled to go;
His last visitation brought me many visions;
I did not know of such things or that they could exsist;
Yato wants to play a bit as we greet eachother;
He is a prankster of sorts who cannot resist;
I am glad in my heart that he is with Oco;
He brings a spark of joy to his heart when he becomes burdened;
With the visions that he accumulates;
Oh how he resonates with the light from afar;
It is almost as if he is his own shining star;
What he tells me I will enjoy it with my friend Quigleanamos;
When he emerges from his crater and sits upon my cornerposts;
It is truly a meeting of the minds;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Music is poised in utter grace;
The notes come from a heavenly source;
Ripped up by its roots unto many ears;
It will never run its course;
It travels through the solar system;
Never falling deaf upon loose minds;
In every crevice it penetrates;
It is the fabric that binds;
A universal language of sorts;
That fullfills natures woe;
The vibrations of the notes are healing;
For it has no fear of foe;
It can calm the binding winds;
For it is the lady of peace;
Soaring high to places unknown;
Like a newborn lamb's pure fleece;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
I go to the temple of Shadoveh;
Tarrogen and Bal Shem Tov accompany me;
They are my dragons who abide in my heart's mind;
Pure forms of energy that will never flee;
My sentinels are present;
Meshema and Tahana who shelter my heart;
Quigleanamos joins in my journey;
He has been there from the very start;
Great walls that align the corridors;
Floral images are at our feet;
The fragrance permeates the space we are in;
The smell of the odor is so very sweet;
In an endless sky we journey forward;
Out beyond the clouds in the breeze;
Ah-it is the pure essence of inner joy;
With the clarity our vision sees;
Time has no meaning-neither does distance;
We can travel in the twinkle of an eye;
Through the wormholes and the spans of space;
To the temple of Shadoveh;
We shall hover in suspension at our own pace;
With no recollection of night or day;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
In the flower dream spiral;
Beyond the Temple of Shadoveh;
Several light years have gone by;
To bring about this traveled way;
Oco and Yato are trailing behind;
They joined us back in the Andromeda Strain;
There is no weariness in our journeys;
For we are as if-one brain;
The flower dream spiral is part of the path;
That ascends to a place much farther beyond;
Where planets are born-and stars that adorn;
Many horizons away beyond the Lake of Reflections;
In close proximity to the Checkerboard of Fates;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
An Infinity has passed since the Flower Dream Spiral;
It has only been but a moment in time;
The Tree of Life when it had no color given unto it;
And not yet any movement from within the tree;
A ghostly reminder or what occurs;
Without the source of things beyond;
Intervention of something that is past;
Our vision of understanding;
~
It is like a fractal image without substance;
Everything that exsists is without;
Unless there is something within;
That recieves the spark of life;
Thus reality of the Tetragrammatron;
The Omnipresence within the universe;
Is the essence of creation in all things;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
The Garden of Eden is an urban legend;
They hid themselves amongst the trees;
Trees are cultures-their leaves are their children;
Even Lilith sees;
In our day and age it is all the same;
Hoping to mix into the crowd;
To avoid detection of our mind's erection;
That which is concealed by the shroud;
First came images placed on the walls;
Of decaying ancient caves;
But first there was the prism spread;
And sounds which became music to the ear;
The images scratched onto the walls;
To help man cope with his fear;
All things are not from this earth;
But were sent here from far beyond;
We look to the sky and wonder why;
In utter ignorance to the bond;
The fruit upon the tree was edible;
From the branch that held it fast;
The bite taken from the fruit was;
A thing we do to this day from the past;
It is the taste of flesh into our mouths;
Before it was borne and planted unto seed;
We know the difference between good and evil;
That is not a man's creed;
Choices to look in another direction;
Ignoring the voices from within;
Craving the taste of exasperation;
Recorded by the prostrated djin;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
