Annamanada

the dome descends—
the weight makes something
of our watery sadness—
like the empty chalice
pouring wine

A N N A M A N A D A

or the bones of the sons of men
producing diamond in the hearts of
ancient mountains,

A N N A M A N A D A

its violence makes us see not simply walls,
which they are—
of onyx, carnelian
chrysolite—

A N N A M A N A D A

the walls which keep us sane—
we see Jacob’s well beyond the
winding way,
we see the outer atmosphere
where brave gods play—

A N N A M A N A D A

some see, (and some die not seeing)
the space beyond the emptiness—
we press our faces to its transparency,

A N N A M A N A D A

fingering lyrics in the mist of
our whispers,
we see through the wall
transparent,
Christ’s beating center

A N N A M A N A D A

and say, I see it there!
It’s there! We are not mad,
We are in the firmament,
Striving through the fiery trial,
We will wait and watch,

A N N A M A N A D A

The dome is lifting!

A N N A M A N A D A
A N N A M A N A D A
A N N A M A N A D A

Thanks for checking out my poem.

Did I tell you I wrote a novel? You can also donate some of your hard-earned dollars down below—that’s money to me, for free!

 

Gabriel Muoio

$1.00

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s