as you trod upon your floral dream-world
pierots on pillows gaze.
watching you with
intent.

peonies are being pulled back beneath,
the false divider, between
earth and fire.

barriers.

are simply states of your soul stuck watching,
divine totems decapitate themselves
instead of succumbing to
slumber.

the blades on which you rest end abruptly.
leaving only an ancient path within.
lost somewhere between dying
dynasties.

there is a hole in the dirt where gravity sings,
to cobblestone satellites scanning
the skies.

for more than a sign that knowledge need not be,
a colossal misconception...
transcending

even the most distant star cluster.