The Solitudes of August - III

The bird that drags its oars across the sky
Is realized in disappearing. Only the invisible
Is wide enough to hold the paradise
Of the mind. Imagination harvests
Out of darkness such lush Augustan figures:
Bodhisattva, Melchizedek, Jesu,
Each avatar unique to its beholder,
A separate sun for each individual soul,
A god for every god, with dominion over the whole,
To fill the hole of mere appearance with the thought
Of existence. The force they call intelligence
Creates the pretense of the real from endless space.

But how could the god of Moose, with its laws
Comprised of Moose, be also the god of Chipmunk?
I spread my god like trail mix on the sisterly floor
At the feet of a murder of meese.
They look at me with skeptic snuffles
As their eyes grow large to mirror my divine.
The world itself has changed from my believing
Although the Moose, it never will.