Eclipse Poem: Man Cave

Luxurious “man cave!”
Emasculated by sensible terms
like “air” and “outer space,”

Thank you
for this incandesce-able lamp
of flesh
legs that give You legroom,
and the Merciful Light that floods,
(with the flick of a secret, indwelling switch)
this living room strewn
with unmemorable low-stakes diversion.

Floater of flesh-boats!
Bless you for this eyelash’d immensity
and the flashing neon
lesson of our times:

The time-bound are ill-equipped to resist
the generational drift:
mystery schools into ashrams
ashrams into churches
churches into retreat centers
altars into “event boards”
plastered with greying gurus–
diapered and dandy,
fallen and yet-to-fall.

May the wheel of time
grind us free of comprehensibility,
and the violence of belief
or disbelief
in the Mala of lifetimes
tight around our neck,
the snowflake slowly
melting in our brain:
our birth chart.

Until finally we concede:

The dream of “getting somewhere”
moments
marinating in anything less
than “full arrival:”
is the planet-killer.

Guillotine of grace!
Behead us
with your painless blade
so we can see
what simply is.

-Hunter Reynolds

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Brave New Prayers