OSIRIS-REx & the Bennu-bird


Quiet in the wintry Capitol.
Where father & son, in
the flag-draped coffin,
on the wooden catafalque, are still.

Where son (& father too)
sheds tears.  Innocence
belies its marble semblance.
Upright humility.  High over you,

at night, by day, Polaris glows;
not flags, but shrouded
origins – Bennu-bird
or Horus-ray (Icarus was

here); your ghostlier, spectral
interpretations – secret
resource identifications...
regal, lithic harbors, for a grail

of springy asteroids (boing
boing).  All that Libertà
of space, Lauretta
(almond muse, lithe dancing

branch of J) – inheritance
of every heaven-child
out of a kinder, gentler
Cosmopolis (to come).  Lance

of St. George or of Shakespeare
aiming magnetically toward
immovable light-word
beyond all temporary tyrants, here


on earth – ever-bright abode
reflected in the clear
Rio Espiritu Santo (where
we return, to be reborn, for good).

O muse of Jonah, in the maelstrom
of the Minotaur... your words
of the sea, rocking OSIRIS
toward... immaculate portals of home!

Your mild ray beaming from the prow
a living microcosm,
shining through the storm
of blinding dread – they do not know!

Mandorla of the sister-dove
whose realm impends
beyond dead-ends
of Minotaur & twin-taboo... from above

your Dioscuri plant twin oaks,
whose lightning breaks
the chains Time makes –
prophets of the Thunder-spokes!

& from that gemstone casket
of the six directions,
whence four streams dance
breathing through each human heart

innocence & charity join hands
with strength & fortitude
& courage – score a prelude
for a planetful of promised lands.


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