Magician

Magician

Between the trot and the gallop
and the song of the rider
I steal a moment and break the flow.

I look up and see the infinity
spread like a canopy
all over me in the sky.

What's below the crust beneath,
I will never know.
All I know is that what I cannot see
is an abyss without an end.

I live in the space that is granted to me
between the abyss and the sky,
and that's the feat of the magic.

Nothing is known and nothing seen.  The magician hides
and we forever seek the hand that weaves the web.
With a whiff of his  breath
the vapour rolled and the fireball was named the Sun;
another breath and the ice gathered to make the Moon and the long trail of stars.

The elements moved and there were the wind and the water.
The earth erupted and the lava flew;
the clouds painted the sky.

For the eons that we cannot count
the cosmos stands
with no pillar to hold it aloft.

The miracle of it all was the birth of the human world:
This little being is the dwelling-place
of all the disruptions and the eruptions the universe has known.

Its heart is the mystery, the greatest of all.
The root of all dualities,
the abode of Satan and the shrine of God,
it's eternally locked in a battle
of contradictions with neither a resolution nor an end.

My horse is merrily pulling the cart
and the horseman singing a song.