I miss you,
I hope for you
someday to return embraced in my
arms of chicken wire,
brittle in this cool breeze blowing across
cracked earth that surrounds me, grey,
the only precipitant;
drops of suspiration from my eyes.

My world skips to slow motion
as I observe with the eyes
of a million unwoken promises,

and it hits the ground,

each drop splattering like a cloud devoured in a
pool of flies.
My body yearns, it aches for you
like a honey suckle longs to be
plucked,
torn in half
licked clean
by the tongue,
moist with desire,
that makes it home in the preoccupied body that will soon discard it,
barely noticed by the taste buds; it moves on to consume another.

Hope leaves me
as I realize
I miss you, but I don’t know who you are…

My life is only a breath, the psyche of the fountainheads
Logos, you see me now but never again; the suspiration
Upon the flaming tip of Gods tongue, if you look for me
I will be gone like a cloud that fades and is gone,
Voidness cannot injure voidness - Orcus hath the soul:
Fireless smoke, the pneuma that brought forth the
Anthropogenesis of atman; the sparks of holiness lodged
In all things: the self-realization my happiness has already
Ended, that which dawneth the way of all flesh, the ghost
Hover over the grave; the qualityless cannot injure
The qualityless.
If a man dies can he come back to life?
The earth covers the flesh, for thy desire-body of propensities
Is void and the lords of death are supplications for the
Parousia of our own hallucinations; as too the dark art
Of necromancy! stars do the spirit crave and a heavenly
Exile exists until the light returns unbroken to its source.



ELEETE J MUIR