Sidewalk Revelator

In utter despair
I shrivel over stale coffee and prematurely-summer air
Quietly pressing fingers in secret configurations
Completing over and over the mudras of balancing
Sacred gestures as flares
Shot up as mortars
To any deity
Nameless or otherwise
That might feel like saving me
In a moment of fickle divinity
But such divine intervention is a rarity
And more often than not
We create signs out of coincidence
To justify ourselves up to the point
To feel a connection to the Pure holy
It follows then
That such an intervention would likely go unnoticed
Or misinterpreted anyway

All of this obviousness was reinforced last night
When I, in my vagabond proclivities
Was blessed and enlightened
When I happened upon St. Gulik
He drew me close to hiss the secrets of the universe
But my dime-sized mortal capacity
Only allowed for the understanding
Of every fifth word or so
So, really, I was only a fifth enlightened
And when I asked
If he could repeat these beautiful revelations
He just scurried back between the concrete
And the electrical pylon he had come from
Hissing as he went
In the politest way possible
That I already knew everything I needed to know
That it was only a matter of time
Before my mind caught up to my soul
But I’ve never been a student of the virtue of patience
And St. Gulik is known for being a bit of a cryptic dick


About Moly

Average, boring, self-involved human. Twitter: @CultOfCocktails Facebook:
This entry was posted in Poetry, Written, Written Work and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

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

You are commenting using your 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 )

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s