The resurrection

My dear modern-day Lazarus

Is curling up under six feet of grief,
Is loving death with his rolling rage,
Is giving in to his boring fate—
An aging boy beaten to a paste
Between yearnings and the perpetual pettiness
Of all that is just ever this.

You have been deceiving yourself.

Wake, Man, wake!
Rise
Like a pillar of fire.
Shake
Like a bursting of spring.
Quake
Like a supernova.
Shoot
Like the phallus of Shiva.

Love me, love me,
Love me by the fire while the heats crack the heights.
Hang me not by the hook of the night.
Love me forth unto an endings.
Love me through to a beginning.

I am
I am
I am
I am Creation I am This I am fertile I am quick
With the gospel of your coming, swollen
With your most fervent wish. So rise
To what you really are: the Sower of Seeds.

He who knows life is a dream
Makes the World his Eden
Makes his living urgent.

--Khoi