seraphemera (seraphemera) wrote,

again to reach the center for a moment

for shame and for shadow
where the tree topped city lies
without revelatory nature
or involuntary nurture

to you who has been asking the questions
to the answers this lone wanderer remembers

let us climb to the heights
so that we may waste away
in the presence of beauty

thus to succumb to the overwhelming -

disappear as the skell to the skerry
impart what remains into an object of desire
that turns in to a palace of demise

would be too simple

to be devoured by the course of events at our feet
relinquish the one identifiable mark that separates
us from the lineage of the tellurian
this must not be our fate

how then to daily revitalize the source of our standing?
to breathe deep yet muffled air
to sigh fully until the lungs are forlorn
to gasp without sign of discomfort or fear

and who has been asking the questions
to the answers this lone wanderer remembers

these trivialities
built upon tradition and partial surrealities
written in books so that they withstand partialities
and passed down long enough to become ceremonial formalities
are not that which clears the mind
nor sets free the self-lacerating methods
of a modern mystic's flailing life

no, we need something that will cordon us off
feed us from dusk til dawn
as we are cornered into fasting from dawn to dusk
celebrate the essence without risking the transience
that pervades from the wanderlust of us all
and has blessed us
like clockwork
as we have marched our way
through thirty years of dying

flags gather in the breeze of butterflies
wings torn off like a child's final dreams
here, at the end of art
this life of death calls
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