Kali at the door,
Did Shiva enter yet, dear?
Nevermind.
I dream of a future that never arrives,
of exploration, wonderment, and words
draped in enchantment
in that space of
unconditional,
(since filtered effervescence arises, well, flat, doesn't it?)
to speak the language of
here and now
that breathes clarity in
open expansiveness.
Now has always been written on the
pages like,
what what what what
and yet,
here, running in forests.
Winds lift and energize
caution and wings,
to say one thing
that does not go awry,
it is
here,
like, what what what what.
A list of yeses and noes,
and perlexed replies,
hello? integral?
Nevermind.
A museum.
Relics casting shadowed projections
reflected through prisms through prisms through prisms
through prisms.
Nonetheless, I let go,
I toss you like a sphere
against my heart-caged ribs,
right back to me,
always and forever
because,
I dream of a future
of exploration, wonderment, and words
draped in enchantment
in that space of
unconditional.