Geometric Allegory

In the beginning there was the Word.  It’s hard to explain because the word—           in the beginning— Wasn’t so much a subject and a predicate  As it was a message.  It was a complete idea given to us by the Creator Because He loved us dearly.  Some explain it like this: "Back then, we dwelt in the dirt  And picked the fleas from our skin,  And occasionally our eyes looked up at the sky  Not in wonder, but more because  We sensed a change in the weather.  He spoke to us even then and  Conveyed the message even as  We combed through the hair of the one  Closest to us while searching for fleas  And crushing them between our nails.  The message was very much like a radio signal,  Pressed to our flesh.  For the most part  We didn’t hear it, and if we did,  We didn’t know what it was, so we ignored it.  Eventually—was it decades, centuries, millennia?— One of us finally heard the message.  The neural-pathways re-routed themselves  And the message came through, albeit in a muted way.

Back then,  Deeper-space pulled itself  Into a tight circular ball,  And the collective dust of "ever was"  Fit neatly onto the head of a very heavy pin .  The weight gathered,  And with momentum, It dropped d own like a fruit-stone  Into a funnel-shaped well.  Sound reflected And mirrored back into  Something thick and labored.  As an open throat,  The well consumed everything It swallowed; But the fruit-stone,      that eternal vowel,  Split its yawn wide open.  Then it gargled up  The sound of a  Multidimensional static.  In that space,  We ceased spinning  Downward,  And the now-broken wheel  Compelled all the bits of dust  To shake loose:   The well emptied,  And like the graceful gesture  Of a tipping hat  In a spiral nose-dive, It filled the moment.  When the sounds dried up,  The well disappeared and  Revealed a newly formed leaf  That sprouted  From a branch  On a surface.  The in-suck of breath  Transmitted desperate radio waves  To the distant simeon-seers  Who sto

In the Hall of Mirrors, A reflection bounces  And stretches out Into an unfolding line to time. Entwined in this is you  my brother-- We are mirrors, Each  Reflecting  To the other. I am here even now In some hospital room where  It stinks of sepsis. The dying-dream is inked.  Brother, I press the rag to your fevered-face And tell you now (as a living memory), "I've done my best to keep the cupboards clean, And I've confessed my wrongdoings So that I might pray with you tonight." I pray, but never alone- You are always with me. Our hands press together like bookends. I bring you tea. Keep the mirror steady And hold it to my nostrils. I will do the same For you. Now remember,  Just as we planned : Reflect! You say, "There is only one G-d..." Alpha Omega Alpha Water Alpha Noun Verb Word Alpha X m(ark)s the spot Woman Man Verb Alpha I say   "That G-d has one son."   You say, "And we killed