Origins & Heresies: Poetry

The bird landed
on my windowsill
and gave a tiny coo
I bent my ear to listen
and heard the tale
of secrets woven in time


They say it is heresy
to dismiss the standard
lines given to us

Nay, we must agree
to these various stories
on the origins of mankind

And I spy arrogance in
some of this thinking
that we know All

There are mysteries
within and without,
beckoning us to follow


The bird upon my
windowsill kept
saying in sacred syllables:

"Existence is all
symbol and myth amid
origins and heresies
Scattered side by side like bones."

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