This Tattered Playground

Mystical poem written 8-29-25. Theiatry Cycle 2.

1.
Hear the song of the Friendly Stranger,
A pantomime of endlessness,
Meandering my way into meaning,
One wounding word at a time

All at once I found myself,
Alive already and endlessly involved,
Tilting at rose-tinted windmills,
And blowing dandelions away

Spun and spinning,
Launched into existence,
With no ground of being,
And no home in sight

So I looked to the Stars,
To find my bearings,
The fixed 12, the moving 7, and you,
The wandering billions

2.
The Stars answered,
As They always do,
Granting structure and stride,
To the path that I walked

But still I was a Stranger,
Alone even in the maddening crowd,
Blinded eyes and terrified,
Muttering and waving my hands

In desperation I turned to ancient arts,
And built myself a modern altar,
Out of loss and dreams,
Kneeling day and night

Chanting names infernal and holy,
In a desperate need to connect,
To forge anew the family denied me,
When I found myself here

3.
I’m still lonely,
But I’m not alone,
Surrounded by the Stars,
I have befriended

I think I Understand,
This twisted twisting world,
This tomb for tyrants,
This tattered playground

I have seen the gods,
One on one,
And recognized my features,
In the faces I beheld

But still I am perplexed,
As I work to be Wise,
I am a Stranger here,
And I want to get to know you