The black emptiness leaves millions of thoughts
to unravel in a dance of curves and bends unseen, travels,
alight in the obscurity.
Sense the pulp of nothingness forming
us into it, her, them, this, extending time
to reflect other voids to whom solars aspire, none
known, all close and absent.
Non existent silences, we awaken to,
grasp the matter uncreated relieving
light of being.
What we call musics stream in the dimensions like
dolphins.
Yet, yes, there is also a fine grained sand long beach in that Polynesian island
and water evaporating under the sun, moonless.
No comments:
Post a Comment