THE HIGH WAY
 
The high way,

Is the old way;

It is the way of Truth,

And Truth is in us all,

To burn in the primordial dark,

Is the way of all stars;

Passionate,

Chaotic, Naked.
 
 

The high way is flesh,

Pulsation,

Without thinking,

It knows itself;

The bone in the brain,

The spirit of flowers,

The morning sunshine.
 


Always more than the seeking after,

Truth is this gifted earth,

The blood of all rivers,

Forever flowing;

Inevitable,

Ceaseless,

Restless.
 
 

Peace is the highway,

Mud-daubers humming in sunlight;

Direction,

Form,

Love.
 


When freedom’s song,

Bursts from the heart,

And sings,

Truth is told;

It is joy, flaming rainbows,

Dawn’s solitude in silent soliloquies,

In the unsaid spokens of the human heart.



 

- Michael W. Eliseuson