by Serge Agafonoff

A memory burns …
another time, another place
forty years ago, or more?
That world, beneath my gold-shod feet
Every  thing  within my grasp
except to know my own true Self
A slave by birth
untimely  drawn out, to become
unlikely learned, in Egypt’s wisdom
uneasily, pharaonically
an overwhelming sense of
‘that’s not right!’
all that was interned …
Who AM I  ?
 Have I learned no thing

here, in Midian suspended ?
Can wild-ness and strife teach
where sophistication fails ?   
Now sacredly barefoot
I stand
in Horeb’s mountain school
I study
a bush that burns
Unlike my little self
it is not consumed
A far more ancient memory
bursts into Being  …
© Serge Agafonoff 2011


(Editors note: Dr Agafonoff is a long time Atoday reader and an Australian physician and inventor, interested in true spirituality and hippocratic medicine)