And the maze is the swirling lines of the tree,
an ancient oak which stands between heaven and earth
a living, awareness so wise it is one with the almighty
and within those concentric rings a bee weaves and winds
seeking the doorway out away from that enlightened mind ...
Seeking the first hills, those ancient shores,
when its psychic consciousness began on this world
Back then as the intrepid unicorn,
which had earned the right to experience being human ...
Before ever the floods drowned the earth,
before ever the moon beams were stolen
Back when translucence permitted the shifting of forms
Back when the consciousness still had the choice of immortality
in the early days before ever the darkness unleashed its madness.
The wolf extends sadness to the bee, who must surely die
for it had stung a spectre of itself on waking from its dream of the unicorn
In those precious moments, all consciousness of life,
regardless of shape or ‘breed’ unite as one living thought
and in that tender union, the wolf knows the bee
and the bee knows the wolf ...
Matthew James
18 March 2003
