seraphemera (seraphemera) wrote,

...a fragment of a journey...


the car parked
humming to a well-deserved halt
we stepped out of the vehicle
closed the doors
removed our hats
left the shoes behind
and began to talk
in the reverenced silences
that only one temple might ever deserve

with no doubt
this was the building
that will touch neither sky nor molten core
but a point on the horizon that dissipates
into the doorway
the soft places
the borderlands
between and amongst and amidst
all spaces

these are the fields
where we
are allowed
to walk
as the angels walk
where the guardians of that which is divine
may let down their guard
and reminisce of the joy
that led them to the palace of protection
millenia ago

these are the fields
where we
are allowed
to walk as the angels walk
not as with feet just above the earth
but with toes in the grass
slivers of heaven
that bleed across the earth
with nothing but a desire
to feel

if one listens
the song that reverberates
in the key of an individual echo
can be gleaned
from the limestone
that catches all tunes
and holds them
for moments such as these

had we driven
from the archipelago sunrises
of Severnaya Zemlya
to the penguin rookeries
of the Bay of Whales
we might not have reached this doorway
yet here
in our own backyard
was the gateway
to another way of thinking
all together

it is here
in this field
that if we are well-timed
(not one's own
but that of the universe)
will turn face toward us
look us in the eye
and, pausing for a moment
open up a doorway
that we have but milliseconds
to stick in a foot
and block from closing
take up the robes of retiring seraphim
and learn the recipe for turning
fire and wings
into fiery wings

these are the fields
where we
are allowed
to walk
as the angels walk
and breathe as the stone breathes
in rhythm
in conjugal lung
in the synthesis
of anti-diluvean and undisturbed
with mechanistic and unlearned

(to be is late...)

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