The Shaman Charged You

The shaman charged too much

for your own breath.

The savior hid your soul under a cup

and switched it with his own.

The guru ran off with your Shakti

during the honeymoon.
Your soul came home weeping and ashamed.

Meanwhile the leftist tricked you

into thinking you were a victim,

while the fascist promised to make you great again

if you worshiped his flag and carried an AR-15.

The yoga teacher told you your body was God,

but the new age channeler insisted

you could transcend flesh and become

an Ascended Master. 
So you took a workshop in Bali 
with the leading non-duality coach 

who used to be a tennis pro named Gabe
but calls himself Ananda now.

He spent the whole week reminding you 
that he teaches Nothing because 

there is no teacher, and no one to teach.

You felt guilty when you cancelled his check

for $5000 and sent him a new one 

made out for Zero.

Maybe that's why you went back to church

and tried to feel like a sinner

so you could get saved,

but there was Nothing to get saved from.

So what will you do now

that you've followed every path

and wound up here

in the old growth forest again,

cradled in trillium and cedar roots? 

Don't become a cynic, friend.

Just take off your shoes and wander

all night, barefoot on broken moonbeams

among the Bleeding Fairy Helmets,

fungi mycena haematopis. 

Listen to raven croak and owl wing whisper,

embody the howl of grampa coyote,

until you're lost enough to cry,

'I am home, I am home!'