the colossi of oblivion

roam interplanetary barrens--

wearing ashen garlands

that drip flame.

watching the flames float away, eaten by

the concept less crush of what ceases no end.

hopelessly lost to the relative,

their consciousness continually

expanding...in meditative blasts.

(shedding cherry blossoms, & babbling brooks)

Arthurian swords pulled out of

the stones of more advanced minds--

blindfolded initiations that wield

event horizons.