Post by artolmaeus on Nov 2, 2023 7:47:21 GMT -6
Good morning Apricot Annie, how full and worn
are all the flowers in your hair, I miss the birds of summer
somehow I know they and the butterflies
are always in the nectar of your air
I've gone to San Francisco, before the fallen and their legions
took the forlorn as their homes
and then, the tracings of you lingered
just later than the time I could find
in the journies of the nameless dmt forms
whose names are written from the lusts of Solomon
and at the refusal to step through the rings of fire
and the offer to be once purged and born of water
like the center of the sun is the forge that force
in the essence of an all consuming fire at its periphery
leaves an aura cresent, to shine and reflect into delicate fragile things
of which beauty and form are momenuous feelings
also laden with the ash and soot and char
all feeds the reeds that become the baskets which
carry fruits and dreams and fragrance in the balance
from the blessings of water, comes the dome of air
withour fire making necessary the earth
violent interchanges have made soft, delicate touches possible
I hear you in the songs of others broken, or broke through
of the senses of the journey of sight and sound
how I have chased you because how deeply I know you are there
in every forest glade and glen, deep in the depths of the ocean
on the petals of one lonely cactus in the dry desert
I am the fox in a world of wolves, still, like them
needing that flesh and blood on my tongue and teeth
just having to be more delicate than they, a sigma to oblivious alphas
every moment in the shine outside the window
while I slept, you came in my dreams and kissed about
something that lingers like hope and care to wake and chase you
as so many desire, to hold you and yes, possibly consume you in some
meaningful way, aha this chase, done long enough
clearly lets me know how far larger you are, as you also
trail and follow the heart bound to the uncertain mind
only when relaxed to experience emotions over reason
just enough to be capable of seeing the gossamer roots
of the most delicate and impermanent things are the continual parts
of an impossible consuning fire, that is because it is alone
and as we call out to it and give it a name like you
it answered long ago these manifestations that are you and me and them
as you remind us of the sorrows of God
who is usually spoken to only when something more is wanted
yet, all requesters fail, fail and fail continually
to realize before the lights of their form were known to them
were amply given far beyond need, and this all will end
because this lonely unknown fire desires greatly a fuel
a fuel called thank you, and you are the constant messenger
of this very fact, that in time we fail to see or chase
the essential reason all is what it is, miracle morbid and magnificent alike
rosh tov Adonai, good morning and good night
