i seek only
the sold soul
who traded the promise
of life beyond
for the simple taste
of sacred sanskrit beauty

falling like rings

soundless clatter
from cool jet black
ringlets.
there were no words
in the time before
only mindless grunts
and sighs
oh so full of meaning
i can still hear the stirring
the gentle click of rhythm
man mimics nature
nature mimics music
music shall always mimic the gods
yet we still sharpen our knives
and dampen our odds.