I have passed through
The narrow canyons of cerebrum
While listening odes of mature cells
Vibrating slowly
And a fresh Pine resin, Oak moss and fresh Ozone winded my hairs
Inside my nose
Plugged my alveolus ready to burst of indescribable pleasure
I’ve heard sounds of sprinkling blood
From my wounded feet
Leaving blueprint of the thirsty soul…
For
Knowledge, Wisdom and Enlightenment
That slowly bows in a front of God
Only by us called LOVE
In an emerald macadam to show the path
To the following procession of creatures
From all Gurdijeffian Octaves
Which as a golden fig are blossoming from within?
You may call me outpour of passion
And you’ll not be mistaken
You may call me lanolin extracted from merino
And you’ll not be mistaken
You may call me a broken porcelain soldier
And you’ll not be mistaken
You may call me a bee that soaks the nectar from
thousands of roses
And you’ll not be mistaken
You may call me a yellow topaz
A child of carbon
And you’ll not be mistaken
You may call me a felt petal of the white rose
And you’ll not be mistaken
You may call me believer who prays for the sins
of human multitude
And you’ll not be mistaken
You may even call me human that mix with angels
unaware of his innocence
And you’ll not be mistaken
But I know
I know spirit does not have a gender
The wind misses the color
The grass is painted green by transparent rain
Alchemy is a transformation of mother’s milk into blood
Heaven is nature and man is Hell
But the Mother is God in Heaven and Earth
Thus I’m hardly a human.

As the fire burns me alive, it feasts upon my skin
greedily ******* the oxygen from my lungs
I can feel the heat licking at my body
It started at my feet
But it won't stop there...
I can feel the Smoke filling me
With every gasp my weak body forces me to take
I'm given no choice
As the Smoke saunters into my airways
Slithers down my lungs
Down to the very last alveolus.

As the endless coughing begins, I ponder my actions
I think of what I did to deserve this
I know what I did
I sinned
An unpardonable sin

I was me

The flames continue, though I ignore them
Although the trepidation inside me burns just as badly.

I will not regret.
Why would I regret doing the only thing I was ever good at?
I was me.

I cannot beg for mercy
But I can stare into their eyes
Into their judgmental souls
I see what they do not:
They are not them.
Not a single person among them is true to self.

I smile

I breath in this staunch air, heavier than the blanket
of breathlessness that I've been enveloped in
for days now
Maybe years even
I'm sure
I think

A single tear tries to offer me one last aqueous solace
Before it withers in the heat

I still can't believe it all had to go this far

I cannot beg for mercy
I won't pretend I'm sorry
I won't let myself down

It's my turn now.
I will light the way.

Bicycles go around, then a car.
A red car with yellow and white lights.

Yellow streaks, oh actually,
They are quite like an alveolus.

What fun looking at a single speck of
The city or village or town!

Friends of leaves skip around
And race their fellow buddies,

While another white car sweeps the
Concrete day-dreaming in the winter sun.