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1. |
an invitation
04:48
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the blooming spring poison stagnates
and unveils roots running rampant
flowing like veins
gashed and left open to the rain
the leaves grow to hide the nakedness of fragile nature
the hanging moss leans
the crooked branches
the shade cascades the grain
moving to the rays like chlorophyll romance
they cast the ground in gray
they cast the ground in gray...
in gray
this fortress resonates
a reverberation of sound that dissolves only just before new birth
a flowing stream that runs pebbles into sand
ever moving
ever flowing
“i want to run you over” whispers the river
withering away the rock
the river never gives reason
the rock never understands why
the sand is undefinable, but the river never runs dry
the shadow uses the sun as a metronome
keeping track of its heartbeat
because it cannot regularly specify that it's alive
ever moving
ever flowing
it casts the ground in gray
it looks up to the sky and waits
“i am easy to love and difficult to forget”
the sun: “i do not trust you”
the shadow says, “you shouldn't.”
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2. |
to accept the shadow
07:51
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(none. but instead, a poem...)
in the dark blue and indigo blend of the morning sky
I meditate on the swirling smoke from last night's camp
the ashes flicker between this world and another
materializing light as reflections cast on the stones
I brew warm beverages boiled over this flame to start the day
ritualistically reliant like such heliotropic souls
the stars still sing synthesized sonnets at this hour
I can hear them as I pour the first cup
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3. |
bird song
04:24
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In the spirit of nihility
I walk amongst the wastes of drought again
Waiting for atonement, waiting for the rain
Honeyed lips once tasted sweeter
When you were my sonnet
And I, your balladeer
The mountains will still be
This forest reminds me
Of the time when you were here
The bastard pariah of sullen sadness
Soil or clay, seeped into madness
And even if fiber could sprout from desire
It would only dry out to be used as the pyre
Of love's embrace with no solitude in hand
I have submitted to this place
And I now gaze upon the romantic infertility of sand
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4. |
the meeting
03:40
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(infernal tongues and incantations)
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5. |
entelechy
03:18
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the shadow wanes within the tide
among the gallant ones who've died
their voices chased out by the wind
of hollowed hearts before they've sinned
of all the thoughts I've found
I praise the gallows I have bound
the sails are tattered, ropes are worn
the ideas fade, pages torn
of all the worlds I've found
I could never keep you around
of all the souls addressed as me
keep the scars, let me be
I'll release your ashes to the sea
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6. |
the lightkeeper
07:03
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I dreamed of you once. Somewhere between the static of two worlds, I held your hand under those draped Christmas lights. Outside those old windows, the sky short-circuited and the thunder echoes liked bones cracking and how the branches splinter. You sat in awe with the aspirations of my life. Aspirations I never took to mean anything.
You sank into the comfort of that dusty couch, once white with flowers and then caked in sepia tone from that old building. Atavistic architecture antiquated past its architect. The laughing celestial being who spoke in Gorgon rhyme and cyclopean rhythm. Perhaps Zeus would have been intrigued...Hera, not so much.
At nightfall, we descended that bed of rocks. The sea folded under moon beams and the froth caressed our heels. That freezing northern embrace. You told me once that nothing is forever. But I still counted your footsteps as they tracked in the sand and held on to their hopeless shape even as we danced the rest of the night on tomorrow's ashes. It hurt to watch you fade. The only way you could have disappeared any faster was if it began to rain.
Now I'm down there, back on that shore and I swear I can see you in the water. You turn to me and outreach your hand. That pale, lifeless hand. Soft, pearled, and empty. But I cannot drown with you.
I cannot drown with you.
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7. |
mirror
08:48
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if not for drums, the dance of fate would fall upon the seer
a dream in ochre, shades of slate, though all would disappear
we define the edge, but not this hand; the left I can't recall
to name the source would dull the blade, the “right” would only call
should the eyes of the dreamer reflect the eyes of the chosen crown
then the eyes of the dreamer won't feel it, even if it's ever found
they say it's not time but what you choose with what it seems you're given
“I caved this path, I placed these stones, I grew these bones I live in”
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8. |
solastalgia
04:51
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“who is this radiant moss flower that descends the deep?”
“I wonder...”
birch chaga grows roots into the fields of Elysium
saturated in mercury
direct descent to the poison path
“Is it you, Lao Tzu?”
eyes stare in silent annoyance
reflecting back
and reflecting back
uncanny familiarity
“Is it you, Kannon?”
death kisses the lips of eternity's bliss
mortality weakens to the blessings of cast iron tea
he laughs
you smile slow
how unfortunate, that
I must return
All the gods between us and the branches of infinity
are you and my love embraced through the enchantments of the earth
In the relief of my breath, I inhale the secrets of our souls,
for the eyes are the sacred passage to divinity and the creators
With a relax of air, I release this plane from such subtle illusions of disconnection
For I am the architect, the sun and the moon, that laughs through the clear waters
awakening from the dream to see you within a momentary lapse of reason
before laying back down my head to rest
Breath. Release. Repeat.
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