Plenty, long - it is pitiful.
Is it never better than to taste of it?
Empty, numb - it is pitiful.
Is it naught that is more flavorful?

In the living glass of the universe
I am a liquid,
Drink the drink.
By the marsh like mixture of life,
Split the iris,
Eye to eye.
As the electric echo of an echo
Waves as expression,
I am a particle.

I am the light

By the gypsum rose grown.
I am the order borne out of the primordial.
In weaves & webs perennial,
I am the pyramid doubled.
By the barycenter offset zero,
I am without mass & weightless.
In the predeterminants of the hypermatrix,
I am a bolt of lightning and the thunder.
By the storm of the ocean struck,
I am a standing wave in motion.

Material and immaterial.

temporarily
the currents shift to polarity
stars aligned, planets aligned
event horizon, singularity.
vision stretched to infinity
what it means to see me
wihte room, empty spaces
black sea fibonacci
randomized perfection
crystalline & unstratified
limitless, free direction
open palms, third eye
to truly live, and happily die
beneath the ground, above the sky
this union of the soul
to the peace found inside
of the cosmic energy that flows-
eddying currents,
the tides that wash away
the woes of life

Raindrops
Dripping silently from the flaccid branches
With leaves like dying embers
And a solitary crow gazing at the sky

Winter heat
A thousand hues
Incandescent crimson tree fingers
Reaching out in the afternoon sun

White melting dunes
Sprinkled with acorns and dust
Out and up grow gothic evergreens
Into the blue serenity above

The Great Storyteller
pens ink to the wind
Pressing pen to its paper skin
shredding its word on the taste of rain
its drip of spirit in deep refrain

A sweet scented memory
echoes and burs
A woe of regret weeping
high in the nest of its underworld

The humid mist of nostalgia
rests its net oer the black veil
Sinking its face to its deep blue belly
Its pale faint ***** in her sleeping beauty
claims its kiss to widen its wake