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Drifting inside God’s vast, blue bloodstream, Goodnight to thee, anthropocentrism— Mitochondria choke-drown in error’s blank stardust. I am taking root now, pressed between the Earth’s ragged furrows and the warm, breathing sky. From fountains of sweetest oud, I rise, glistening green, bathed in a warmth alive, an ****** pulse of the older memory. In it, the eye of the blind Beholder spies seeds of a forgotten dream— germinating, dipping fingers into the river named time. Out of it, a silent roar blooms: a thousand aromatic oceans, buds splitting into lavender pagodas, trumpets framed in soft, sweet musk. Rapture. Sage, broad and leathery as an elephant’s ears, curtains cascades of orange-blossom snow that cool my sweat-drenched brow. Tangled together, wild ivy tendrils pull us under, drawing heartstrings beneath rosewater pools. Breathless, we float, ensconced in a crystalline life-dream: each moment’s petal drooping lazily over the next. Primordial whispering—wordless, voice hums through roots and bones, lifting, sinking, settling into soil shadows’ laughter, older than light.
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Jan 20, 2025
Jan 20, 2025 at 2:42 PM UTC
Acacia
Drifting inside God’s vast, blue bloodstream, Goodnight to thee, anthropocentrism— Mitochondria choke-drown in error’s blank stardust. I am taking root now, pressed between the Earth’s ragged furrows and the warm, breathing sky. From fountains of sweetest oud, I rise, glistening green, bathed in a warmth alive, an ****** pulse of the older memory. In it, the eye of the blind Beholder spies seeds of a forgotten dream— germinating, dipping fingers into the river named time. Out of it, a silent roar blooms: a thousand aromatic oceans, buds splitting into lavender pagodas, trumpets framed in soft, sweet musk. Rapture. Sage, broad and leathery as an elephant’s ears, curtains cascades of orange-blossom snow that cool my sweat-drenched brow. Tangled together, wild ivy tendrils pull us under, drawing heartstrings beneath rosewater pools. Breathless, we float, ensconced in a crystalline life-dream: each moment’s petal drooping lazily over the next. Primordial whispering—wordless, voice hums through roots and bones, lifting, sinking, settling into soil shadows’ laughter, older than light.
Written by
M/North America
Jan 20, 2025
Jan 20, 2025 at 2:42 PM UTC
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