POEM: The Shaman’s Drum


The shaman wandered through the worlds

Beating his drum

Upon the face of the Earth

Every blow

Carving space with sound

Chanting a song

Sung right from the womb of the world itself

We prayed, we danced, and laughed

Worshipping nature

As our greatest teacher

But then the warriors sprang forth

With their chariots and their weapons

They were too proud

To receive the beneficent gifts of nature

They were not content

With their own allotment

But had to seize other men’s too

They took their all-giving mother

And sought to enslave her

As a great prostitute

A nurturing slave

To their maniacal greed

Eventually this lifestyle

Came to be called ‘Civilization’

All the ancestral wisdom that went before

Was debased in favour

Of eternal indulgence and servitude

For the one directly feeds the other

The selfless Way of the Past

Was usurped by that Tyrant, Ego,

It grew so powerful

That people eventually

Projected it out of themselves

And began to call it God

Thus Ego spaketh:

“Though shalt have no god but me”

But the true God is infinite

And manifests itself in all possible forms

Is it not as much an act of worship

To relish these forms

In addition to the womb of silence

That begets them?

But the great civilizers did not understand

That multiplicity and unity are one and the same

Akhenaten was the first to make this error

Before he was turned into Moses

And had a horrible, unwieldy book written about him

Narrating his innumerable sins and misdeeds

And those of his atrocious relatives

No more did men commune in the woods

In the trees, or in the mountains:

All of these sacred topographies

Were now declared as ‘accursed’

The haunting place of malefics and demons

The realms of witches and wraith-conjurers

We were called worshipers of both idol and devil

Whilst they paraded their own idols and iconography

Throughout the world

Investing more power in the devil

Than they ever attributed to their God

Who was so angry and jealous

It was impossible to tell them apart

Not content with crucifying

Their own God

Whom they stole

From the very pagans they persecuted

They decided to crucify the world

In equal measure

But times are changing

The Shaman’s Drum

Is being beat again

Beating out the hypocrisy and corruption

Of those reverend, saintly ones

So that the Way can truly

Return to the world

And with it

Peace in its wake

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