Sermon of the Seven Suns

I think of how the universe is made of theories—
                assumptions and mathematical calculations attempting to shut down the human paradox and close Pandora’s Box,
                as if one day we might think up an escape route through the back door of the universe,
                throw ourselves into the void of everything and end up a hundred trillion light years away,
                just far enough not to hear
                when death comes cradling the hands of the collective human race in the darkest parts of day,
                whispering
                                                live
                                                                livelivelive
                                                I am coming.

At the death of day the mother of the universe curls herself around a hundred million solar systems,
                her breath sparking solar winds and blowing a little blue planet several degrees south on its axis;
                the Galilean moons stop for just a moment in their orbit and
                all sixty-two moons of Saturn laugh in tandem at the irony of existence—
the mother of the universe curls herself around a hundred million solar systems,
                weeping
                even as death passes a hand over her shoulders and
                whispers
                                                live
                                                                let them live
                                                I am coming.

Silence echoes across the universe and the murmur of celestial bodies fades with the light of a hundred million suns,
                all sixty-two of Saturn’s moons have stopped laughing
                and the mother of the universe goes softly into sleep
                as death strings every sun, moon, and planet around his neck in the absence of noise and grips the fading
                strands of time
                in his fist,
                whispering into the past
                                                live
                                                                livelivelive
                                                for I am coming.

This poem is about:

Our world

Poetry Terms Demonstrated:

Metaphor

Comments

mpetruso

7 years ago

The Sermon of the Seven Suns is, in Buddhist scripture, much like the western idea of Dooms Day or the End Time. That being said, the Sermon is essentially the Buddha's predication of the end of the world as it descends into violence and social collapse and seven suns appear in the sky, each one causing subsequent ruin untilt he earth is consumed by inferno. The violence of the title metaphor is meant to be contrasted to the overall ambiguity and peacefulness of the universe, complex and outside of human understanding that it often is. Thus, in a time where increased gloablization and the advancement of military technology specifically have lead to an era where citizens from all aorund the gloabe are able to witness global violence and subsequently become desentized towards it--from watching the Ukranian protests of 2013 to the violence of militaary action cocerning the Middle East to the current Syrian refugee crisis--the poem is meant as a call for global solidarity. While there are many thngs out of our control, and many issues concerning the world are complex and out of reach for many of us, we need to work together and use our lives to shape the future for future generations, knowing that while we may not see change in our lifetimes, others will, and the fact that we will not see it should not change the fact that we should use the lives we have now for peace and the prosepct of a greater future.

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