Chaos Mantra

A path that

in nexus lies,

upon the quiet

horizon.

A paper plane

always

set on fire,

by its motion...

Among the passing

of times:

By blazes,

set the stones.

The sole dawn,

from forever,

together,

turned to air

once again...

It begins...

all erosion

as it melts.

Layers holding

together

my cuirass, that just

breaks

into pieces while

being taken,

in

soft silken touches

from

the breeze.

It's intoxicating,

nevertheless,

ruthless

all the same,

and relentless

evermore:

A spiral connecting

my twisted past,

and future presents.

Tongues that speak,

from simple words,

a forbidden message

that foresees

shadows again

from the meadows.

And...

Ancient Dragons

dying,

lonely,

from the sorrow

and the cold,

of hostile altitudes,

once crossing

that last

Beyond.

Shocking, 

as to breathe,

two copies of

life as it

oxidates;

what's remaining

and

what's empty

once it's left.

And to keep dying

is too, trying,

to see and to

find out...

Just who and how 

or which time

to know now,

in what soul,

all eventually,

will blend.

And manage

to discover

a cozy desert to

persist.

As we're all turning to

asleep.

Once blinking,

all ears awoken;

from perpetual riots,

the corruption,

misdirections,

silhouettes:

A known collection

of the same ol' fears.

Once a truth,

bland,

but surely branded,

into broken

soldiers chosen shoulders;

then reality,

perplexed,

but unprovoking...

Again arisen. 

Unto the self-reflecting sea.

For us all

to sprint together

into the commotion.

And kill all locomotion.

As we drift together

into abyss.

Us brethren

all again.

Reflections of a

same prism,

all the same.

Made matter by

brothers,

of the sharpness,

derived the particles,

separating us

from afar.

Once again...