How often I’ve reconstructed that wall, and still it crumbles, the universe and ever-reaching temptation, her tentacles tearing at the fabric of this constraint –
Alternate realities parallel linear logic – Non-ego driven forays into magical mysteries – answers not supplied – Float in orgasmic, ethereal landscapes – kaleidoscopic colours unseen
Ancestral circles steeped in lore – symbolism lost, and imminent – Geometric rhythms play with destiny, ascribe fates. (For Willow Poetry’s What Do You See?
Is death a gentle reprieve, a final release of suffering a promised resting place? Or is it contemplation coloured by memories demanding retribution? Will death
“The world works in mysterious ways,” my father used to say to me. “It’s wonders never cease.” I forget sometimes that life is a mystery.