A Sixth Sun

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Some ancestors imagined a fifth sun; revolutionaries dared to live in the sixth.

Imagine the mothers of motherboards –

Gold veins, gold apparel —

Turquoise truth,

Twisting into our soul,

    Metals never melted for coin.

Imagine the eucharist’s harddrive –

    Wine drunk,

    With ritual dances,

Swinging Christ’s blood,

Spread among quetzal feathers –

    Across stretched drums

    punctuating fresh incantations,

Imagine this new reverberating sun,

Electrified above our heads,

Bouncing over us

    like a child’s soccer ball,

Realizing a day —

Where artists come before the conquerers,

Where dancers come before the merchants,

Where bomba kicks up sand –

Into new skies –

Where hope is only the pulsating starting point,

    And answers are always in the next breath.

    A sixth sun warming the heart,

    And risk is not synonymous with love.