The Gypsy's Testament

Oh my God,
the things I've seen
in crystal balls
you'd not believe!

A man who yearns
for fire - how's that
for starters? One
who thrives on it,
who bathes in it
and walks on it,
consumes it whole
and loves it,
hugs it
half to death -
and sleeps
on burning coals.

And then
I've seen the earth,
a spinning globe -
snug fit inside
the crystal ball.
And inside earth
another world
and inside that...
a score or more
of spinning globes.

I've seen the Saviour
crucified
deep in the bowels
of all those spinning globes,
deep in the deepest
sphere of all.
His bleached,
attenuated limbs
reach out
strive to engulf the ball.
The globe contains him,
yet he takes its weight,
the spheres hold him,
and yet he holds the spheres,
the natural law
placed in abeyance
and himself
untouched by fire.

He was not born this way,
asbestos-skinned,
but took it to himself,
the role.
I watched his dream unfold
and saw him tremble
like the thin blades on
a tuning fork
with sounds not his
until his limbs caught fire
and he was in
his element.