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©Jonathan Zap


I know you.

I saw you survive red flames twisting glass and steel burning the dry night air.

Saw the heat of greedy fingers on the smooth skin of your youth as you splintered into fragments of light glittering through the dark suction of tunnels spiraling upward to entrance threshold intensity.

I saw you and I saw every particle of sand on your naked skin as you awakened in desert night, spirit drawing back into wounded flesh and rousing itself into mosaic perceptions of reptiles, cactus spines, red rock, stars.

I saw you, you with the will to survive and to glow upon the open mesa, tendrils of light penetrating the minds of strangers, penetrating me.


You that awakens me and walks through the alleys and streets of empty cities to stand beside roads as I drive by and our eyes meet across time.

You whose silent message floats through invisible ethers into the salty juice of every bodily cell.


You whose heart reaches through the night into the painful blur of mortal awareness seeking you as you seek through dark labyrinths of improbability.


You who seeks with will of Elven Silver-Steel cutting through fatty membranes into shimmering realms.

You who seeks the secret green fire under-glowing dying realms of congealed masses of clinging primate coagulations.

You who seeks even through these dying realms,

through dark and dusty lands, through dark and smoky wastelands.


You who seeks through dark and smoky wastelands.

You who seeks through wastelands charred by flesh-entangled machines.

You who seeks through wastelands charred and pitted by war-like primates.

You. You who seeks through the acrid smoke fires, through the fires of greasy, dark smoke. You who seeks through the suffocating, smoky embers of protein-solid puppets to find a few living cells.


You who seeks for life.

You who seeks for life hidden by smoke and ashes.

You who seeks for life imprisoned by smoky, twisted puppet flesh.

You who seeks for life imprisoned by wooden-headed puppets whose thick hides bristle with beaks and claws that want to rasp and claw at your eyes, rasp and claw at eyes that pierce the low rumble of the dark ebbing of weak puppet magic.


You whose radiance is cloaked and shimmers secretly in the desert night.

It is you I beckon forth from the hidden scrolls curled up in desert caves like snakes coiling through the dark skull shadows of history curling back on itself one final time.


I know you.

I remember you from when we were children and we slept together in the desert and prophecy hung in our mind like a blade.


You are the one I know and have always known.

You are the one that steps forth from the many tilting angles of improbable coincidence laying bare the long, long way that lies between us.

You stand amid ashes, amid swirling jewelries of light glittering from the blood essence of the unfulfilled calling out to you from desert shadows and the dense, dense walls of gated cities.

I call upon you to step out of the shadows,

I call upon you to shatter the dusty shards of meat and bone and show yourself glowing and alive in the desert night.

I call upon you.

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  1. Rapturous. Thanks for sharing that Ode/prayer.

  2. You…

    …should let “Thus Spake” play all the way thru the pipe organ at the end…

    …it echoes so much of your flavor…

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