Gaillard missions
travels
from afar,
on the surface of a
dilated horizon
shaped parasol,
floating carelessly
inside the buoyant nature
of grandeur-
The Cosmic Ventures...
What can you tell me
of the marvels
of Beyond.
A maniac episode
of the shadows
rising above bright red coals,
a coral reef
of burned promises,
over the same set of flames
that stumbled upon
our bridges down
to the ground...
An itchy scratch
that never forgets
to come back.
That pasteurized
version of ourselves,
now
cauterized
and re-colourized
due to exposure
and allure
of falling in reverse
through the membrane
of The Day.
A simple one that takes
two times a same
chance to make the thrice
goodbye
(for now)
keep your secrets
folded unto
velvets
of themselves.
It's always
the spiders
crawling
inside the floor,
through the corners of
the skin
akin
to juxtaposed
little pamphlets,
to distribute
THE GOOD WORD
of gore...?
And foretold
it's that he's up
and becoming
The Array.
He arises, through the mud.
As He claws
away the clay
that buried Him
so many Eons
before
the tongues begun
to speak.
And pissed
off they go
where the Bodies
foam the shore,
in the Sky-blue Frontier
embalmed;
make some mummies
made from shards...
I will get
to see
a rising shine
once I'm done
through with your
sense of
pride shaped shambles.
It's conspicuous
to believe
in unbranded
fairy tales
or formerly knowings,
cobwebs of surrounding
undergrounds
ongoing
the good fortunes
of The Stones.
The Flames, will tell the song.
The Ocean shall calm its mighty shores.
The Universe... will eventually retake its glorious toll.
And so, we'll all forgo, The Cosmos, as current adventures to unfold.
Brand new chapters.
For us to trot...
