Castles in the sand, or
Castles in the sky.
There's a whisper of tentative potentials
wafting thru the air like mill smoke.
It keeps us withered and wondering,
starstruck, mutilated in spirit & empowered
We chant, "I don't mind. Terror
is an error but no error stems from
a terrified wolf," simply reacting
to the terrain like a Ghost
losing the ghost of its mind
in these very same whispers
as they morph into a melody,
a whistle, a beautiful problem
ready to be solved.
(ready to be solvent.)
They asked me what life meant.
My reply was, "Life is meaning itself,
embodied in a compound unity
with no center."
"And we are seamless expressions of this
same strange mystery, this same
where the point
is the point,
and the point
Not anymore, anyways.