Stare into me...
As I stare into you.
Take the mind to worlds
where fields turn to flocks
and frogs leap from fishes
whirring persitance in a
tranquil
pool's darkest memory,
where midnight geese meet morning swans
to greet lizards in their paper scales.
And celtic knots writhe
to slither over one another's cares
as clocks melt on wrinkled ash trees
in the desert's
dry oasis,
where water falls only up to fill the vessel
that sails the ocean of screaming whales...
whils't people-things go
up the down staircases
and gravity defies immortality itself,
and depth is measured
in
a space of wings;
spiked and poised to deliver destiny.
One hand inks the time
it takes to draw upon the other
as angels fall to earthen graves,
cut deep by tantric
fruitions.
That is the simple cycle
of man in his greatest moments,
before expending all his breath,
in awe of
certain truths.
...whils't people-things go
up the down staircases
and gravity denies itself explanation
and depth is
measured in
a space of wings;
spiked and poised to deliver death...
In a retrospect, and self-reflecting notion,
such is evolutionary hope the magic mirror.
The Birdman of Alcatraz would never truly
let them clip his pin feathers...
He would die first in blood-soaked
honesty.
As the phoenix soars above the crow,
so the sun steals the moon's shine,
but only ever for a time...
Could windows claim a perfect frame
on immortality,
if on exhibit for the mind, that never
enters true
nirvana?
And eyes of hearts search high and low
for a semblance of surrealistic dreams,
as synapses snapping and popping
in time
to some unheard symphonic ballad of pain
echo the newest experience.
For what atlas shoulders could ever
cradle the mind, care for the soul,
that can but reflect what
we
must then already call false vision,
of self-truth?
Self realisation is the only key
left upon the ring of doubtful notions,
that may yet turn the lock, and
correct
the measure of our worth.
We must walk through to gain entrance
We must step up and over all the never-to-be's
We must move with
purpose, now
to claim the prize of peace that could
await our hearts...
On the other side of my eyes,
On the other side of yours...
What concert, what symbiotic intimacy,
in all its flawed perfection!
Stare into me...
And I shall stare into you.
Stare into me...
And I shall stare into you.
©2005 SPDworks
