You are in a kind of a practiced dance with spontaneous chance And there are soooo many kinds of dance March 1, 2021 The original particle language Leave a Comment Cancel Comment Name* Email* Website
Of all the forms to begin with looking for life, women are best. The roses have no eyes. And their curves have multiplied
You think I donโt see you exactly for who you are? ๐ Who am I? ๐ท Darling. That would take books. Novels. Libraries. Galaxies. Chapels of light upon light. And I am writing them. Reading them. Building them. Listening to and singing, the hymns of creation. With a vengeance. Having looked into your eyes, and seen: the radiance sutras alive. And this digital Alexandria will not burn. This gargantuan Milky Way, and Andromeda graceland, will only collide. But if you so much as asked, I would set it all ablaze, like star braille in an inkless night. Without halt or hesitation. Here is the kerosene. A million drums. Floating in a hotel like the sky. You are the match Just say the word
If you move too soon ~ It may not be ready ~ If you wait too long ~ It may be too late ~ If you fuss too much ~ It may be unsteady ~ If you think too hard ~ It may just break ~ Something of the thread ~ Of all of these ~ Has to partake ~ There has to be an element ~ Of utterly resplendent grace ~ Something arriving and departing ~ From no fixed place ~ And oceans and eons ~ May divide you ~ But that is such small feat ~ For the unentombed ~ Extracelestial ~ Forge of faultless fate ~ All that is asked ~ Is that you relinquish ~ All that you know ~ For that is the only way ~ To unform sufficient qualities of space ~ To contain the unfathomable torrents of new ~ That unravel your DNA ~ That dream of your unbroken empassioned embrace ~ And these cannot be ~ Just words ~ They must up, and walk ~ Nรฉ, soar! ~ Valiantly off the linen page ~ They must sear and soothe ~ And settle into your satin skin ~ Like a silken tattoo ~ Coursing in fire ~ Brimming in primal astral lake ~ And modern miracle mage ~ It must be breathless ~ But it must be true ~ And that means it must ~ Source the breath ~ That latin for spirit ~ And soul ~ And new ~ That is ~ It must be undeniably alive ~ And grow ~ And how it gets there ~ Is offensively irrelevant ~ Because it will abide ~ By its own unrighteous grace ~ That which is true ~ Correct ~ And properly improper ~ Knows no other way ~ And it is for this reason ~ That it owns nothing ~ Yet possesses everything ~ But not 'possesses' ~ As in desires ~ As in owns ~ But as in occupies ~ As in imbues ~ As in enthralls ~ As in tones ~ As in hides ~ In plain invisible sight ~ With complete ~ And unfettered access ~ To the entire spectrum ~ Of life in ancient light ~ No word can escape it ~ No word ~ Would ever truly want ~ To even flat out try ~ If the approach is correct ~ If the vision is vast ~ Your itinerant heart ~ Will do something so much more inconceivable than fly ~ You will become the very air ~ You will unfurl the bankless sky ~ You will salt the milky stars ~ You will pepper the andromeda night ~ You will join the chordless chorus ~ You will sing a properly proper ~ Unrepeatable goodbye ~
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