The River Styx 7/25/14

The River Styx

crossed the Missouri

three miles from where ever I was

at the time when I grew up

before heaven knew I existed

and hell did not matter

only in minds of grey men

in sack cloth robes

while women held the ancient wisdom

saving it for when the bird tribes

would again give freedom to exist

in green lands where the sacred plan grew

for the believers who practiced

sacred arts of healing the earth

and all who doubted allegiance

to those who dwelt in dark caves

where the treasure was buried

before time ran forward

and everything grew young and died.

 

I finished reading the holy book

of false revelations

and laid down in green grass

filled with yellow daisies

where I slept for a millennium . . . missing nothing.