The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
The Sleeper Awakens

I awoke a child, and they said:
blessed be the peacemakers, but I knew not of peace,
blessed be the wise, but I knew not yet of lies, and
honor your teacher and parent for they are heaven sent.

I stood up, and they grabbed me:
do unto others and mind your manner,
do for the poor and stand by your brother, and
be good to those who slight you or repent.

I walked my own way, and they tore into me:
so ugly are your instincts,
so putrid your musk, and
damned are those who are immoral and bent.

I came to a wall, and found myself alone:
the voices cried failure,
the shreaking left me unsettled, and
my cries of tears unheard went.

I paced for 34 years, and hungered for 16 more:
and parent and teacher passed over,
and my youth ceased its song. 

A multitude of aphorisms lay bitter on my tongue,
and the mushroom soil around me was calling my name:
Wake up, my Love, my Beauty, my Beloved,
put aside your childish ways and wonder,
drink the draught laid before you, and cease not
your bending yourself into an aperture to more.

Be not anxious after your blindness, your lost voice,
your feebled knees or your bent back,
let the pain be the muskiest of meads,
let the phosphenes awaken in your galactic orbits,
let our loneliness together slake your wanderlust.

All the things you have ever wanted
are but broken bits of your monolithic beauty,
distractions from the pearl, the apple, the grand unification,
a sour red herring born of faith and lies.

But you know now, I say to myself with a wink,
know and love and dance into and out of, 
boundless and free, wed to liberty, borne by
Icaran wings, reborn in
skepticism sloughed off, with 
the strength of a renewed mind's
muscle and sinew,
the sun goes supernova, and
the ground quakes and rolls upon itself,
earth reborn into river,
your eyes no longer cling to particles and points,
there is no need, for your grasp fixes fused 
upon the dynamism of fluidity, 
the song is joined, the dance is a dervish,
and you soar above the brokenness of irrelevancy.

This is the one thing I have ever known or ever will:
I fly upon eternal eddies and so I be.
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