Would my soft blue eyes
Burn a hole in thy tongue
Or in thy heart
That thee must fill
With the ice of reason?
My love moves slowly
Like a glacier
As the winds in chaotic display
Rattle the heavens
Like to remind me
That I am merely crawling
Along the earth
And waiting for ascension
Ever so gently a seeming rise though only in deception to come around
again… the illusion of progression… the opiate energy of perennial growth keeps
on pushing for the silences of thought to bear flower to an alternate reality…
to change the world in question… and standing on the farthest precipice to keep
pushing on and on and on though ever so more quietly… though ever so more where
the language becomes a pulsing reiteration… barelling through the apathy like a
wave upon the edge and crashing still and still reaching ever higher…
There is no turning back on the winding road of a love marked by the
straight shot of a reason… unless we were to abolish time and restructure our
conversation to mask its tragedy in a climax… to have the moment of greatest
pleasure be the extradition of its soul to some wild Arabian deserts… places
where the mystery lives still and icy reason never feigns a grip save in the
oil traces of economy… opiate dreams take life… and the opportunity in devastation
resurrecting this worldly soul from a moment of soulless existence… when
staring right through the position… I felt at a loss of humanity… the cold wind
had wrought too far… finally shattering the sills all along it had been
rattling… waiting on a moment and at last the moment come…
And now there are voices on the wind and they are whispering of fools and
wisdom but in the bustle of the market it all sounds the same.
Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com
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