While Wilderness is Holy

…night morning be gentle, so agaze’d, praising interior worship; to find you there in that room, so green, so tragic; nerves speaking Swahili, minds concerted tribalism, pains deeply ethnic; our richest terror, to come to naught, aflame by something so cold; our gut exchange those spirit-cruxes so indebted to strangers; our yogi cousins both fuel and fires where mystics celebrate mind-shifts: I know less the meaning in this world of umbrellas while anger roots in our cores; so strange to you, so infused by you, while most are honoring deaths; this cultic curse this force in foibles so galaxy so adverse; to simmer with grace, to execute softly, so encharge of our existential; such gray nothingness our travesty and glory while pushed by something phlegmatic; this holy war seizing our souls where many have had convergence—those spikes challenging existence those dreams coming to fruition while a nun pondered these things….

I was terrorized firstly—fretting reality, accursed by perception; so much so a phantom—this interior workshop, maybe trying but vagueness; our ambivalent selves, searching something falling, appraising phantasms; as deeper in exultation, feeling remnants congest, while thinking closer is better; this lose of sight this miracle Ephesians whereas breath is principalities; our caged elements, tugged by persistence, so constructed, so found, while realizing we get lost again; it’s a tragic essence this space of majesty insofar as dying while cursed; this never-ending mechanic this churning thresher this winnowing fan; to live in bowels rummaging intestines while hoping to see her face; our daydreaming spasms, our telic hearts, so charged at certain intervals; deeper as it dies suffused by brains accustomed to mingling arcs; this silent acclamation those purple tunics those burgundy teleportals.

We adore for reasons, spatial and involved, reminiscing or creating fantasies; so aligned with our thoughts, such courage and inversion, while realizing love was so discontent; those delicate hands, those embolden features, too redeemed too unsatisfied; having souls in mirrors or nibbling seagrass while feeling like a marionette; those puppeteers those grander puppets removed from human reality; so close it aches so far it hurts where a day can run so silent; drumkit spirituality or clarinet rituals as abused creatures desirous for closure; this pain in seeking this glory in being where we realize each other; our flying hearts leaping cosmos where one woman might dislodge a group of feelings; our gasoline engines, our forever I smile, where pressure becomes a need for rescue.

It was early December, a quick-fast revelation, whereto, this unruly manifestation. I was ripe for troubles, galvanized completely, thrust into something ontological; this fair essence, this fairer dilemma, so taken as if mystical magic; re-parted and divided in halves and lost trekking sea-skies; our rainbow tyranny, this movement in guts, this mental dial tone; but days would churn and life would avail insomuch a dream would evaporate; as so ironic this captive soul looking at something proving its disenchant; to open thrice this legacy of rubies our minds rhinestones and minerals; but Agony was present and Anguish was her friend whereby we courted Misery; those sparks remanufactured this core-set must evaluate where tomorrow is rosewood and primroses; so steeped in mysticism, so elevated as creatures, where instances cause for renegotiations; that second our last prayer so strenuous so replete; as crucial creatures, fleeing our posts, or holding to that reality element; cured in silence, or struggling silence, suffused aflame by silence.