seraphemera: diamonds to dust
Tuesday, September 13th, 2005

Date:2005-09-13 00:55

waiting for a finishing before replying
hearing as much in collisions of silences
as utterances escaping lips
one might make a life
from bathing in these sacred moments
held together and torn asunder
by the motions of voices with nothing to say

yet there are places still further from here
down beneath the depths we reach as youth
as if tumbling out the other sigh of the sky
landing upon the untouched beaches of sand and glass
left waiting for those jaded by thoughts
of time and remarkable dreams
(from schoolroom textbook fiction fantasy - social studies)

there are few who walk these ramparts
those unwilling to swim waters
so charted and crowded and chowdered
with the upstream violence of life
prefer to me the forced motion of stoic agony
of glorious struggle toward death

that these visions that do partake the mind
as last gasp heresies
are safe behind trembling eyes
as there is not enough left breath to speak them
is a fallacy

yet this, too, will fall shallow in moments of cold
where warmth of familiar breath meets air
creating words which take form
while silences dance distant disappearing stars
halfway, already on their way, to someplace entirely new

when truth is close so close too close to feel
anywhere but inside
and the violence of alternating sound and silence
is heard in this forgotten song
our heresies meet in the shadow drawn
by sight and right and might and fight
light and causeless night
while undisturbed bright colors
cascading down a mountainside of clouds
in an early morning
remind of campground awakenings
nothing more cozy than a sweatshirt and some hot chocolate
the million miles from home illusion
with but a couple hours left to live
and then, must succumb, to the sunshine
worshiped by so many yet just a touch too late
to keep Ra alive in a state of mind
where god-like happenings are still be an option
instead of the mythology status
that has reduced him to tears

here, we serve, in small glasses with ch(i)ant(i)s
a purification ritual mixed, with the blood
of a time that stands timeless, unbound and naked
calls out to be called to by the few who understand
not to betray all it is they seek for the sake of ease
but seek to say that for all they have sought
and all things discovered
still more remains to be seen

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