Waiting For The Dragon

one day i hope to wake up

with a mind wiped clean of muck,

all the bitter bile of rancour washed

clean, all the festering boils of hatred

dotting the surface of the brain

healed, all the poisons rotting the vestments

of the soul, all the foul, prurient desires,

and malice inveterate, purged outright.

all the dirt, and black rimless thoughts

of murderous lust, and all the insane guilt

of beauty raped in trenches of raw violence,

the mindless dismemberment of

innocence, all the slime and vileness of

connivance infecting the bloody entrails

of internecine intrigues, scrubbed spotless white

like fresh washed linen under

a silent, blinding sun.

one day i wish to wake up

in a world of untold love,

where laughter is a riot of throbbing,

fluorescent hues: unbridled blues, untroubled greens,

radiant violets, unfathomed indigos

and the sublime passion of limitless reds.

where the eternal and

unvanquished song of the universe

pulsates through every wave and

each particle, every energy field vibrating

in unison like guitar strings plucked by

fingers of purest intentions,

unconditional. where tears cut clean through

pain, as diamonds through clouded glass.

into that world, gestating for aeons of chaos

in the womb of time, ripping open the fabric

of all space, exploding like a billion supernovas,

in an apocalypse of fire and blood from

the first singularity to the last,

i'm waiting for you to be born,

O Son of the Dragon!