of a swirling river bring us back
to yesterday's acquired certainty?
and--- I realize I have esteemed you higher--
on a pixel-landscape in a flickering culture!
More integrated, and more afraid.
So may I stomp and stomp
and stay afraid?
And He- He who is buzzing in the empty
space between bodies quietly held my hand, and spoke:
"You, my quiet daughter, have a single harmony, split in two."
His splashing eyes are garlands of an altered consciousness!
Thank a most grateful God!I am biased, but
I might still hold innocence.
An innocence named Anthracite.
An ever-moving, floating thought transformed:
purple, twisting and turning above my praying hands.
What I have to wonder about is immaterial,
given the fact that your eyes are a bluish grey,
and not at all close to what I had expected.
Of course I have acquired different realms,
but my heart is in none of them.
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