Meeker Meadow

In 1989 I was falling fast, retreating from a purpose for the things that I lacked, I traveled through my phases and I moved about my moods, and I came unto the mountains just to see where I stood. I traveled to the goldmines and I danced against the stars, while the night was moving faster I pissed into the fire. I laid my body naked in a prairie by a butte, and I read Maria Rilke and I knew my spirit shook. I was younger than a mountain, begging secrets from the stars, the Colorado mystery held my riddles self-inspired. It wasn’t just by destiny, a drug induced self-swoon, that I climbed to Meeker Meadow by a dry November moon.

I’d like to say that altitude, frost blowing through the gloom, made sleep for me impossible, as Venus crossed the moon. The cold it made my sleeping wear grow weak with all despair, but slumber came all too quickly, for my body sheltered there.

It is right here in this soft tale, this tantalizing word, I’d like to share a secret now, some nouns you’ve never heard. His name is many wonders here, some call him all their own, it moves within a labyrinth of wisdom that atones. When I tell names that filled the air, in symbols rune and stone, celestial rain of Hashem’s name, a name unlike unknown. It is my place to explain its name is one held dear, a love that holds you in your pain, its special and it’s near. It wasn’t just by destiny, a drug induced self-swoon, that I climbed to Meeker Meadow by a dry November moon.

Dreams in Meeker Meadow, Shekinah from the moon, our love is held in special hands, it’s holy what we do. In vision was a well laid plan of what my life should do, what Adonai told a boy, this I tell to you.

You are not a quantity, that’s floating in this sky, a numeral all the same, this is a flesh held lie. Did I not say to Moses, name each one this day, you are each my person held, I need to sow your name. Know in disposition, the name that you have feared, it is the name that judges you, your title hold it dear. See you signs of common man, those that regulate, beware you true the rebel man he will a tyrant make. Those that would now number you, and make you all the same, they are those that fear me not, there love I will reclaim. You are a name upon this place of meadow high and free, go you to the world and name your terms, and set each title free. It wasn’t just by destiny, a drug induced self-swoon, that I climbed to Meeker Meadow by a dry November moon.

I woke in frozen silence to a higher place of lore, the floor of Meeker Meadow looked much brighter than before. A name in loving logic, placed on me from the womb, had judged me far from lacking, it held me from my ruin. For you this means a purpose, just like mine did before, your name is more than numbers, it means what you’re meant for. It wasn’t just by destiny, a drug induced self-swoon, that I climbed to Meeker Meadow by a dry November moon. – 08.02.2014 – דָּנִיֵּאל