More than before, mortality of its entrance—waving at summer, ecstatic at moments, slaughtered by spirit. A blackout, a black diamond, eating parts of a blackhole.
Daisies speak gently, crescendo skies, ink indecision—to value life, trying at intimacy, at a last road, hairs in guts, flowers in bloom, it might be spring.
A rumbling mind, a little slower than some, grappling with sunrise, eyes closed, rain dropping, rinsing one last baptism.
Gadflies inside, so much swatting, if to locate presence—if to clean a storehouse, furious beliefs, at some part of immortality: Does it mean meaning?
Fumbling often, agazed by moon-keepers, moving with trepidation; old sensory upon a sensorium, needed pieces, maybe parts, working out self-sabotage.
To let go, to straddle a horse, to leap a gate, to get in—one way or another: “the kingdom suffers violence!”
Noetic numen, poignant pangs, growing into a storm; used to be life, moving in winds, silence took hemispheres.
To think back on a journey, to claim spirit or nothing, to have taught self, to have met sages, at memories, Alpha kept teaching.
