Divided opinion,
Conflicting beliefs,
Destroying solidarity,
Heart against head,
Trust against paranoia,
Love against rational thought,
The two factions grow apart,
No longer able to function as one,
In bitter hatred,
They turn against sense,
Then within their own ranks,
Both sides host rebellions,
A second divide,
And now four sub-cultures,
Live within one body,
The heart,
Split between love and fear,
The head,
Split between order and chaos,
But in the end,
Their ideals are the same,
Having all experienced the horror of war,
And the glory of peace,
It would only take the briefest moment,
Of simple reason,
To unite this quaternity,
Into one.

there's a tremble at the edge of

every which world--as one and none

gathered round a fire spits snowy

sparks.

into skies that pass on skies--same

yet different in eyes made single.

swearing to no end that you are here--

set down to look up.

clear as the cold draft of magic--spelling

words.

doorways for the protusions of bodies--

held slow in their long fast.

searched for something other than meaning.

as curves catch on to their circle, and holes

moan black--spirituality offers the most

ironic grin.

earthy as ether in the quaternity of face.