lunes, 11 de marzo de 2024

Miasma Quasars

 

 

A ripple.

 

Ethnocentric to its

 

electricity.

 

 

A circuit

 

running endless loops

 

through its vicinity

 

in the city.

 

 

 A secret hinders,


as its echoes emanate.

 

 

From the soul,


a weight lightens

 

onto my glistening

 

remarks...



And I keep

 

reminding, myself?


2 times

 

too tired

 

to keep brooding,

 

and rooted,

 

to a rhythm that

 

encapsulates

 

disdain,

 

made into

 

stone tablets

 

to pursue.

 

 

An already

 

ancestral

 

revenue...

 

 

As I walk, lone,


on an endless


avenue,


faces turn to spirals,

 

and the spirals

 

become caves.

 

 

Concave. 


 

From far away:

 

the sources,

 

a light from their eyes, paint

 

familiar settings of unsettling

 

roars and shades,

 

slashes...

 

 

Now they show themselves


as portals.


Wounds to heal,


but naught close


the encounter.


 

I've been encountering

 

simple facets

 

that make sure...

 

 

Someone's still there

 

to find the light switch.

 

 

After,

 

the thunder made

 

its deafening

 

 madness.



I will widen


the threshold


to hold unto


my timeless


sense of wonder-

 

 

-to avoid

 

 the realization of

 

unpleasant rationality.

 

 

To paint who's and what's

 

to conquer...

 

 

Reality should not be,

 

a safe bet

 

to gander...

 

 

At


the same time


I


set my boundaries




to guide you...



Now fragile


event news,


you're past


revenues,


now turned


to mulch to grow


the Life I dream


and that will it be.



It will.


As I see it


fit.



You may cry


and you may wander;

 

but nevertheless of options,

 

left for you to gamble.

 

 

You can't forget.

 

This Reality.

 

 

Is for me to ramble.

 


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