from death, alive,
the wedding between the good and evil gives birth to the death’s sublime beauty,
far from the depths of darkness,
in the huge void,
nobody can see, feel or perceive,
the truth and nature of the fragile consciousness,
a death alive will **** the spoiled allure of the world,
a touch of death over my eyes,
the gaze which brings sounds and rhythms after life,
death over beauty in the dark,
from void and blankness I rise,
the virtues of the infinite,
dimensions of time and lustful waters soak the mind,
I am the gate of irresistible hell,
passions and fashions of the dark,
the love from death was a temple of endless births,
inside my prowess, inner joy,
I put a spell over the time ending its life and continuity,
today time is finished and vanished from perception,
ending but never,
prolonged by a luring infinite.

death’s entrancing lure and charm,
I’m far away from my heart,
questions to reach an aftermath,
my lustful youth murmurs the sea of weeping void,
gentle flames to climb the sky,
above death’s veils and tempting allure,
the swan would stare close to the shore,
picturesque face upon night’s bright dispersal in the darkness of a mind,
pearls to shine an urge of power,
swan’s pure demeanour changes the faith of time,
spiritual emotions,
both in its poise and weeping beauty,
a nymph would stare back at the boiling water,
Earth’s harvest burnt like vanishing disasters,
eyes to eat a song of luring infinite,
I travelled till the end of human life.

All those moons ago
I plucked a stone from shore
and whispered my intention
with each waxing and waning.
I took it back to the sound today,
intending to sing a final goodbye
before casting it far into the waves.
It sparkled in the spring sun
then slipped from my fingers
into the sludgy low-tide pool
of barnacles and gooeyducks.
I simply walked away
and watched the gulls drop oysters,
fighting over what belongs to whom.

The waves will carry the stone to sea
the same way the green has returned
like the green in me.
A gentle and abrupt easing -
A slip out to sea with the tide.

I woke up with a universe dried to my hands.

Post observable,
Post ****** of;

    water,
    seed,
    death

and
fingernails,

scratching at a birth canal.

Who is hungry?

People running
Up an excellater
Trying desperately
To catch their
Connecting flights
To their rebirth.