I close my eyes and feel an energy
incommensurate with last night’s
pizza
or this morning’s English muffin.
It’s like nineteen sixty-four is
listening
to real top forty radio and number one
and two and three are Beatles
tunes,
‘I Want to Hold Your Hand,’
‘She Loves You,’ ‘Please Please
Me,’
and nothing that one knew before
consisted of such power and such
glory
or such nuclear explosion
like those mushroom clouds in
photographs
explaining why we practice duck and
cover
in event of catastrophic war
but this is rock and roll,
this Shiva Shakti consciousness.
One knows no radio can generate
that burst of pure uncensurable radiance
but yes it’s all incoming waves
instead.
They saturate the space around me
and this little lime-green plastic
box
is just receiving them and
amplifying
all-encompassing collective bliss
itself:
“it's such a feeling that my love
I can't hide, I can't hide, I can't
hide.”
Call it spirit, being, presence,
Krishna, Christ, this universal
love
that makes the body and receives
the song
it’s always singing you yourself
are love,
"yeah, yeah, yeah!"
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