Bending back against oaken branches,
devour time instead of our unpacked lunches.
Ecstatic as the falling cherry blossoms unto
the lavender leeches.
Skin turning into bark, friction snapping
superfluity of those twigs without passion.
We’re fashioning the master and the mistress,
sapping away our tangled shadows within
the tree. We’ll follow the rain drops to the
sun-filled roots learning what we’ve long forgotten
and always known, in Her wisdom and not our
Our demise are now flawless, no love made is
harmless. Bound to the raging rounds of Deathe,
Ravaged by limbo would we trade it to cycle
The mottled coil shows the pig in us, silver linings
are better severed than bound. Golden means
and these thoughtless geometries, the walls
have fallen the floor worn away and the ceiling
Spiral into the motionless monadic void, shall
that demiurge part us again. Without directions
we may cycle again, without directions we
may cycle again, without directions