Laughing Ferocity

I used to believe that
I was the offspring
of creatures
made from dirt by
a distant
I Am.

That after my
three-score-and-ten,
dirt would return to
dirt, but, if I
said the Magic Mantras
of Blind Belief,

my Soul,
whatever that is,
would escape
the dirt and
ascend to a
gold-plated
Paradise,

narrowly escaping
the burning quicksand of
Dante’s Inferno.

But the bad dream
is receding,
swallowed up by that
nightmare quicksand.

Instead, I’ve wandered
into a Holy Land
created when
I Am
burst into an Infinitude of
I Ams,
of which
You and I and All
are One.

The thing is,
when I Am
greets I Am,
All That Is,
All that can
possibly be,

is a bloomfest
of adoration
that will blow your
Holy Hair back
with its laughing
ferocity.

(Photo by Ben White; UnSplash)