7. Immortality

7. Immortality

One without equal may

seek only that, maybe

to share the responsibility

 

Do we fear death or immortality. or

simply losing out on one

because we have the other

 

Our Passion’s paradox

driving us to evolve as

consciousness expands, we

transmigrate and trade our

bodies again

 

The fear of immortality is

that we’ll experience everything,

have all the memories and then

never forget

Could we just be Deities without the

responsibilities?

5. Counting

5. Counting

Steps taken over the waters

As if through time as well

It is suspended

After I leave here

Before I get there

 

As I project thoughts

that play along the rails

Counting each hop

Counting each skip

 

Then returning as if

none of it occurred

The bridge ends and soon

I’m home

 

Drown

Wandering in the somnolent keep                                                                                                             We brush each eternal essence of our deep                                                                                             Depths too well known for those who walk

Power

Whither will the flowers
Soaking each stem and each root
Kindling all the buds

Love

Anything else here
Embedded within these
Words beneath these Words
Beyond their unconscious plays
What else could my symbols create

1. It Only Lends Itself To Dream

To Luna: Neither Love nor Infatuation

 

Is it the

suffering that

makes this love

exist at these

weeping worth

intensities

 

This fodder

for one who

dreams

Waking washing

away such a vivid

reality

 

This is not for

those still living

Gut-wrenching

rippling blood

into a half-full

heart

 

Weak and powerless

The depth makes

tear-less eyes bleed

Even in wanting

death, life becomes

indistinguishable

 

As it levels

out a waking

heart left half-empty

 

As if this could

only exist in dreams,

There’s even less

now left in the land

for the living

 

Whether or not

Deathe shrouds

sleepers in immortal

dream

 

As if sleeping

now gives glimpses

in such lucidity

and well they could

not repeat themselves

 

How apt that I

only desire to e’er

sleep with You.

 

For these love-filled

dreams, make the waking

suffer and all no longer worth

seeing

Now even more illusory

than dream.

2. It Only Lends Itself To Dream

To Ceph’: Neither Infatuation Nor Love

 

There’s no envy

nor even jealousy,

one can only muster

a reactive smile

in blindness of any

other love

 

of any other

touch, as if

synaesthesia was

the senses correct order

 

Now even the

face and voices

fade, memory made

hollow an suffering

all the more meaningless

 

Numbness shallow

in its deepness

Gives way

to further numbness

 

Not even the warmth

of the womb

Could bring such

comfort

 

With passion’s

shadow beginning

to stray

All senses ending

as they fade

 

Ineffable

even numb

could not explain

All feeling made

all the more vague

 

Even numb

can not explain

All feeling made

all the less lucid

Nothing made

all the more

vague.