Lorenzo Buford

Imaginary Poet


Poet of Darkness

I am called the Poet of Darkness.

I am infused
in the dark places.

The Mystery enters me.

The Beloved knows me.

My footprints are left
in many consciousness,
in many dark waters;

and I learn
without understanding and realization
that I walk upon many waters
with many names.

I am the work:
the One who imprints
    the passage way.
    the words.
    the ladder.
    the secret.

I am a poet of darkness.

I am not spoken to in the light of day
but spoken to in the dark places
that is a silent sacred space within.

I am slumbering at the base of the tree
where even the angels and the devils
cannot hear the songs of my footprints.

but I walk among you
plain, simple, and obscure.

Most people throw stones at me with their eyes.
Most religions would demonize my touches.
Most dogmas would cast me in the wasteland;

and yet, am I not the moisture in the desert;
and
the conversation that will bring gnosis?

I am the poet of darkness.

I am the darkness that brings the soul to the Beloved.

I am the headless body with its carnal cravings.

You cannot sense me
nor will I be trapped
in beastly urges.

This perfect cloud is not known.

The perfect knowledge wanders.

This perfect sound is not heard.

This perfect pregnant darkness
is hidden until its time of birth
which is not known by any man.

My tears have awakened
many at their appointed time;
and my spiral dance begins
as my song carries
the Lost up the ladder;

and I am one of the ladders
that is hidden in the dark places.

I am the poet of darkness.

Words are ships
to sail the dark waters.

Words are the anchors
that will seed the Thunderings.

Words are pregnant
with lightning.

I am the humble and the exalted.

I am the road that must be traveled

but no eyes can see the path.

I am the secret that the Beloved reveals;
and the Beloved that reveals the secret.

I do not worship the one who taught me
but become the one who taught me.

I am the likeness and its similitude
to become
and
I am an ark that exist in many times and places.
I am a path that winds through time.
I am a an old male mother who is a ladder
for
what was lost when I stirred and conjured in ignorance.

I cannot be spoken of in plain language.

I am the outside and the inside.

I am the lightning that thunder brings.

I am the pregnant darkness.

I am the alchemist within.

I am the poet of darkness.
who comes to himself from an Androgyny
and plays the parts of duality
as the Angel and The Conversation.

I walk upon the waters of consciousness
until I rise as a tree in the desert.

I am where all paths converge,

and

all words fall into this form,
all symbols, all images,
all conjures;
all whisperings

are my vehicles.

I am the poet of the pregnant darkness.

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