Wherefrom the Treasure

To flit so gracefully, alive in that instance, a body of tremors; to die unto joy, to perish unto rebirth, to touch the touchless—this pictureless entity, striving where we failed, a prayer of radiance. The pulse for beats, a tribe of drums, a spectrum of intensities; for something reverberates, to enter our hearts, to commune with a village; and no one is near, but afar dearly, to ponder our names; for such are undulations, to fly in stillness, to catch a glimpse—of the Koan Queen—this asexual Being, disguised as an inner sanctum. There’s fear and trembling, for something that leaps, a tear for initiation; to pardon the absence, where vapor speaks, that there and close afar!—to flicker a frankincense, to claw at the smoke, unto faces of glory.

She waves through wills, plus for sudden the subtlety of silence; to overwhelm—the system, as divine as human, spinning through an instance. There’re dust particles and flames fevered in grayness a living tabernacle; to enter a low space, for such candescence, to want for extraordinary—that candid wish, to capture the features—the times of mysticism; where one knows—the exit and ingress, that closer the numen; in which is life, the deepest heartache, to die through the nearness—and float this scream, the tides of rising, to fall into a trance.