(no subject)

Dec 13, 2007 06:41

Were I material keeper
of the metaphysical world
or mechanic and inventor
of the clockwork of dreams,
I would save the rare species
my mind engenders
in these hyper estranged
surroundings- in jars like
lost buttons and scattered beads
for no perfect fitting or purpose
but simply to remind-
to crack open and smell,
to remember the times that
change and the human pull
that tightens and fluctuates.

Were I ever to lose faith
in the incontainable,
in the dynamism that governs
existence as each
moment refuses to recognize
its mortality- or the laws
that defy fatality and
entrenches itself deep
within a myth of permanence
when finally it sleeps,
until at a summit of unconsciousness
suddenly waking into
a dimension so vastly unlike it's own,
and only instantaneously aware
of the difference before-
buries its bones again
far beneath the fertile soil
of small concerns
and forgotten mud, caskets
of illumination graves.
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