Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2014
He wrote sigils of the world with air.

Pursued upon every street and grove,
attempts to writhe free are unwarranted;
Though in what way could escape mean separation?

Cast over rifts like a falling mist,
paradigms lay sedimentary
mediating sight as a membranous
pseudo preface to the essential.

This alluvium breathes, drawing inward
consecrating the dreaming idol;

We had found a stitch in space
where mortals wield no bodies.
Now subtle coagula are vessels enough
So temporal wills decay.

Join the aether;
Through the high cascade
some remember first knowing Self
akin to parting breaths in absentia.

This is our amniotic solvent;

The cycle stops repeating;  
A ceaseless inception
compressed upon Eternity.  

Our beginning remembers the end.
We found the gold in October.
Connor Smith
Written by
Connor Smith
Please log in to view and add comments on poems