Oh twisted stimulus,
****** of the soul,
you flood me with colour.

I spill out across the world,
being everywhere,
existing nowhere.

Once I've emptied,
I am void.
Incorporeal and numb.

Like mist in gale,
I am rushed,
into endless sky.

Notorious chemical,
beautiful chemist,
I am lost in your constellation.

There are strange things done,
In the midnight sun,
By followers of crooked lines,
We write maps for those who fall,
Out of love with freedom,
And forget strange latitudes,
Suspended between the sun & the moon
The spaces are filled with,
The weight of love
Truths in moments, pulses in time,
With our teacher, the sacred geometry,
Drawing parallels between,
The symmetry of constellations,
The topography of faces,
Finding it in strange places,
Home is where the river races.

A spark takes a second
The fire lasts a little more
But a pebble is shaped over ages,
By waves beating upon their shore.

What the tide brings under the Sun,
It takes away under the Moon.
The scent of the roses in Spring
Was lost to the winds too soon.

Of what use now is watering a flower
Which already withered to nightly rains?
Of what good are the pardons you shower
Upon a slave who has died in your chains?

This bridge I was building
Collapsed before the mail van could cross
With this pebble I was gilding
That shall remain to you, an unknown loss.