Drum Journey

 The Apache drum

monotonous as a Buddhist chant

reverberates, resonates within me.

The warmth of the small fire

radiates through to my bones

comforting, soothing, reassuring,

relaxing my pursuit for a portal.

I’m drawn to the fire and then into it.

I’m not the fire but am the heat of it

rising through the flue into the night sky.

Suddenly seeing with the eyes of an owl

there are embers everywhere

glowing with the wisdom of innocence.

And god breathed fire into its creation

and the void was filled with stars

burning the hydrogen in their bellies

belching their plasmatic cacophony

of the periodic table

and everything was different

far away at the beginning of time.

Fire changes all it touches.

Change God’s modus operandi.

Change constant, infinite, steadfast change.

Not better nor worse just change.

Calories, black holes, you and I

and the entire enchilada that is

still burn with the unfathomable, undefinable

passion of that first breath of God.

Leaving us here, feeling alone

blessed with our cognizance,

cursed with our egos

and a choice to burn joyously

with a scorching, searing need

to try to reason the why.

poem by,

Scott Hower

scotthower@aol.com