Those chanting waves breathe the void!
Circling into mental quietude
Enter where the Lord of Form rests in a
Constant stand still.

Around that cyclic circle of life-fire
His minions utter noises of non-meaning
to praise the very notion of sound and being!

Chant, chant, chant to reveal this eternal
moment we all reside in showing love and
understanding regardless of who or what.

What level can you reach in your human form?
Can you touch the void with the form of fingers?
Chant yourself into oblivion and god..
Go beyond chanting.
Go beyond god.
Go beyond the beyond.
Touch the void where there is no longer perceiver nor perceived.
There you can reach the inner state of emptiness from
which all form comes from.

Vast unknown vistas,
Take me to where my dream's dwell.

Rolling prairies and shaded groves!
Where the warm flowers welcome me home.

Frolic and joy paint my expression
Of this dream, elusive!

~~~~

Stepping softly, I wish to find
An iron passage of ancient time!

Here I can go forth into fantasy,
enormous and sincere!

Lean the trees of old
Magic and lore they ever behold!

Lord I wish to find
A dream of Elven-kind!

Where the wind speaks
whispered fables of yore!

Oh, how you flush me with flutters!
What is beyond that rolling hill..
Venture forth, I must!

They dart with illusioned purpose,
I alone, am distant and far.

They speak on trivial affairs,
I alone, speak not of the obvious.

They delude intelligence,
I alone, can say no more.

What it is I feel,
Never could be construed.

I can offer no consolation
for those tied and unwilling.

This blind expansion of
unnamable multiverse
weighs heavy, might I say.

The vapors of desperation had crawled;
Fog snakes curling his body's form.
Stood half teetering along the edge
Of an unfamiliar precipice containing
What he knew not.

He had carried his medicine pack,
Heavy, a prison held on his back.
What was the use of sending a note
Caught on the air of the winds
Bounding from that deep crevice!

Would Gods and Demons meet him
In his pathetic descent?
'Let them join me!',
Suicidal, he said.

Taking his last short step
down...down...

And maybe..

He thought of the connections with people
Hard to ever make. Hidden in his mind.
It wouldn't be fair to take someone with him.
To share what had been stolen and ripped.
Oh, what a poor, poor soul.

He jumped after few sad thoughts taunted him.

On that shore I sat melancholy and sad.
Thinking about what the wave had taken away,
About what it might bring and what I had.

Sudden emotion rushed like wind.
Overhead that moon lit lantern,
Translating my message to send.

Oh, what a shame to try
To bring you here by my side.
In meaning, over this ocean perhaps you could fly.

To my lonely abiding shore
and sing songs of magic together
a fantasy sheathed in lore.

But now the ink runs low
and the winds of my heart move slow
what I have left had been taken by that ocean wave flow.

If I could send
a slice of my soul etched
with this feather pen,

Perhaps I could meet
this angel I seek.
Siting in reality alone, cold and bleak.

Alone, standing among the ***** grave fields,
a crystal cylinder, Tower of the Tortured,
aspiring towards the void.

Marred bars circulate the Tower's depth.
The walls of torture outlined and gave
deathly void substance.

Diamond souls refracted empty light.
The hollowed trees crawl their roots,
interlacing life and death.

Hovering, creeping downward, they
swayed suspended. Among the hung
and through the trails poised one.

Emanating empty vibration with no substance to grasp..

Crumpled story sheets rested upon a shore,
lost in oscillation. Stumbling entities
unknown to light, covered marsh black,
and layered in blight.

Rest their starred eyes once in infinite time
upon an alien language. Retrieved and returned
to the pillar of slime.

Fading ash whispers off into the night.
No one lived in that tower but the
Crystal King of Death himself, Soldier of Fallen Light.