Did I tell
you how I feel about
things?
Midnight
the witching
hour
is come
breathe the soft steeply waters
breathe the soft steeply waters
of all that
lies
beyond the ken
of mortal
man’s
daytime
mind
breathe
breathe the
spiral
forms
which await
your delight
your desire to
embrace
the
fathomless
formless
space between
what and
aught
transpond
if you will
the signal
which
utterly
contradicts
whatever
you or i may
think
or know
dayfully
transpond
the
counter-code
of life
no matter
what
life
inspite of
things
being no
more
real __ certain
than a mind's
way of thinking
way of thinking
locked in
step
lockstep
marching o’er
the edge of
§ [the mind gap]
§ [the mind gap]
in a suicide
pact
in service
to God
of this
unacknowledged
failure to see
the is
that i
am
the is
that i
be
the is
that is
not what
you i
think
rationally
it
it
logically
ought to be
but is
in fact
in truth
is
uncontainable
uncontainably
§
uncontainably
§
poem
waiting to
be
stretched
out
on a clothesline
of infinity
signifying
nought
yet
comprising
holographically
all
the essence
the isness
of be
no matter
how
no matter
what
awkwardly
shamefacedly
nought
a prayer
a drop in an
ocean
of
incandescent
silency
the great unthought
a pulse
a beat
of timeless hope
of pregnant expectancy
and suddenly
the world
falls into place
and a narrative
fills the breach
in the
matter of mind
with tale-like
meaning
bringing the
body
back to a
state of
conscious
life
and thus the
world
wags
turning
on a dime
of pure
delight
does it
not
No comments:
Post a Comment