As the leaves ****** their world's turning above...seeing as blindly as tapping blades of grass below. Any passing is unsteady... even perfect faith must leap by nature. The very conduct of heaven... on earth or other.
Don't fade this jest... open that country, valleys whose cupped palms beg blue overhanging. Seas apart that smile together... somewhere out there in those oceanic depths , your heart pulls on mine... we're both caught on the same line, let's wade this jest.
The fire is long, the flame is short... thankfully, love at its loveliest is not proportionate. The doings of this earth start to speak freely the more you sit with them... doings whose burdened air ignites. The fire is long, the flame is short.
~Yoking this seasonless weather... eyes melt to an entirety... to be clean of particular tears... let this, let that-- be equal to not this, not that... the bodiless embodied, slack with awe... Fifth Season~
A prolific attendance enlists the saints of now... whose virtue's the patience of dying. God-house gongs can be heard... melting into one another as sound and time. The sunlight seems to be loosing a stockpile of days, disassociated from "this day"...a nauseating feeling comes when sunlight informs more than flowers.
A treetop... a wind rummaging through eternity-- the unbrokeness of a surfacing depth. How far does a gaze truly go... even as distance dictates an end?