Hallucinated Reality 6:Creation Mists - Andrew Barham

Mourn, ye
For the warrior
Fallen in battle
For he
Will not be
Able to take
His rightful place
In the Dead Village;

I bear witness
To this fact
In my coat of many cultures
For the spider waits
Poised
Above her jewelled orb
Sparkling with countless droplets
Of mourning dew

Eight Creation Mists
In the foggy mourning
As Reality
Is Hallucinated
Into being
By
The momentary confusion
Of contorting strings
In the Spider's web:

The whole world above is my father!
As he emerges
From the Mourning Dew
With my blind brother
By his side
Breathing divine energy
Into the mother
Upon whom I stand;

To create the world
From a mote
Drawn
From the bottomless abyss
By a great white swan,
The theft
Of all Creation
Is the first and last contest
Between two
Hallucinating Realities …

Andrew Barham

This is part of a series of "Hallucinated Reality" poems in which the title is actually imbedded within the poem. Thus, these poems are titled, but the title does not appear at the top, but somewhere within the poem.