Walking in the wind
What to say
When I am no longer fazed
By hallucinations,
The unresolute
Or bad news.
Is becoming,
Numb?
Or is it coping
In the speak
Of strong?
The unknown
Is just that
Everything spinning,
Intersecting,
Circling.
Some days
It's visceral
Others
It's usual.
The truest moments
Encompass
A kiss,
An embrace,
A gaze.
Everything small
Is big,
And everything big,
Is small.
The pinhole
Is not rose colored,
But fire embers,
Loosely dancing,
To the wind's shiver.
posted by lahierophant @ 7:06 PM
1 Comments:
this reminds me of a part of something i wrote last night but i did not get to read this before hand...
the parts similar were
"Scarlet flesh, fire red, sacred heart.
The passion of ecstatic alchemy
transforms the hardest stone
into bright golden ember."
and
"The suns distant glow,
a fierce reflection
of the sacred fire
dancing within."
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