Take thee, thy gaze, in wistful, mourning solitude, 

and fix it thereupon a rose in bloom 

and thou shalt see and be consumed

in thoughts of death and interlude 
betwixt
the days of haze wherethrough 

the sunlight, harsh, consumes a baking brain 

a-pulse with pain, and still estranged

in what we call “forever.” 



Yet still, become 

(thee, thy rose in waiting)

whose entreaty and retreat betrays 

the idle mind, the aching heart;

and be that bloom, that efflorescent art.



Drink in the sun and be a part 

of waking day and masterful array, 

of soul drenched verisimilitude.


Whereby the unprimed, emptied mind 

aligns with thy divine spark, 

therein lies the secret: 



It is You 

who shines, who blooms; 

who dies unto Life become again,

through strife and separation, 

Beauty and Unity, and Universe in celebration.



It is Thee, not lost, not blind, 

but free to be and free to find,

to coexist and create bliss, 

through ignorance, your every wish 

begets a kiss with the intimate infinite.



A declaration of innocence, 

of birth, and Truth, 

and Love returned to It.



You are Sight.

Light seeing Light being.

Light Being, 
shining through the Night. 


Divine thing, 
hold tight.

It will be alright.