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Creative forces unite,

constructing and refining substances,

both physical and other,

into objects of stature,

size, and persuasion.

In time, these objects adapt

to their surroundings

and evolve into new creations.

In time, these objects grow

beyond their former parameters

and initial limits they were given.

In time, these objects become

not necessarily more than what they were,

but  rather become victims of eternal plagiarism.

Realization of this leads many

to ends not suited to the original idea

behind their first genesis,

thus this enlightenment alludes to, 

yet circumvents their nirvana.

Slowly or suddenly disintegration

of the developed sense of self

rips the veil in the sanctuary

of legendary misconceptions and dreams.

Once clinging to that veil, 

the objects soon find themselves

in a free-fall of their perceived downfall,

as all their silken robes, thick furs,

delicate foliage, and thin membranes

are stripped from their current understandings.

Suspense

Bodies facing off in a simulated match

of brute oppositions deviously designed

to merge in an intricate, 

yet uniquely simple unity.

In many aspects,

domination ebbs and flows

as one reclines, 

awaiting the contact

of the other's approach.

A looming shift in self

hovers with the anticipation,

the surrender, and slight hesitation.

Mental spires crumble under the weight

of the advancing introduction,

of which neither know

the resulting combination of the pending action.

Possibilites of becoming lost,

immersing past conflicts, 

clinging to a life once known,

tarry in this moment of suspense.

Nor forget

Your presence is the
burning incense
that insidiously dances
with peacock fronds
and candlelight in the dark
Your truth is the
illusion that wholly vanishes
in the conversations
held deep within
the corridors of our essence
Your heart is the
pulse that shatters
notions of realistic views
and casts the pieces
to gnarling canines
You are the escaping glimpse
in a regretful reflection,
the scavenger's shrill cry
in the still coldness of night,
the blue heron perched
amongst the catalpa's abundant frills
Your hope is the
morphine drip
keeping my suicidal thoughts
from rupturing
my soul's thin shell
Your love is the
Gordian knot that I
have untied countless times
in singular company
and inebriation
You are the last words
flowing over my dying lips,
and the empty chalice
drawn from the Lethe

The Vow

Give me the direction

of your path,

and I will lead you

down mine as well

Division revised

Grasping palms in stale night air
wail for the one,
the absent half to the whole
Body emulates soul
in writhing, impetuous conversation,
and yearning of communion otherwise unknown
Reels of dormant want
submit to devastating and intoxicating euphoria
in the stagnant nocturnal hours
Hope, the fleeting instigator,
spurs the enduring exchange
of the partially severed fragments
Hope, the malicious cad,
entangles the two in webs
of unyielding dreams
Hope, the delicious nectar,
of whose injection conjures visions
both apocryphal and attainable
The amaranthine dance of Gemini
on the bull's cusp
gave birth to the divided counterparts
One scribes the other's existence
as if incarnating divine law
into a marriage of paper and ink
The other weaves incantations
to accelerate the duration
both of them share apart
Their ravenous premonitions
leech their essences
to transmit the lives they have yet to join
Intervening, iterant revelations
implore perseverance
and cultivate a loyalty beyond postulation
When the two finally, finally conceive to be one
savoring the synthesis
will consume them.  
    

The Last of Them

The Transient

Further down the long white road
merging with the flanking fields,
a darker illusion stands waiting,
a stranger I once knew.
The approach reveals the illusion
to simply be an exposed part
of the dirt beneath the snow,
elongated to suggest height
from a distance I once knew.
Numb, yet aching fingers
flick ashes out the cracked window,
as the relentless tires rush over
the illusion I once knew.
Exhaust disappears quickly
in the frozen morning air,
and smoke rolls over chapped lips
leaving behind a fix, reminiscent
of the dreams I once knew.

Draco

Belated is your arrival
as all is prepared
and your path laid out before you.
Boisterous ones await the momentum
your passing will provide.
Elders fear the numbing stagnation
your presence will leave behind.
Red cheeks,
violet hands hurry
as your violent breaths
herald your approach.
Are we to awake
and find you have gone?
Are we to awake
to your icy desolation
of a world that knew warmth
merely a moon ago?
Are we to awake
to icy nips and blanketed snow?

The Pair Tree

Coupled in the least amount
that defines "accompanied",
is the amount that vanquishes 
singular ideas and explanations.
It is the binary ballocks that leads the great hunt,
and yet when married,
rediscovers the original solace in deeper complexity.
It is the birth of both
when individuals impale themselves on the pair tree.
A paradigm of a paradox
is the pair-a-twins who follow the bull.
Warring aspects that perfectly combine
in the smallest combination to rule the ages,
and set dominion over expectations and species.
The smallest key to earthly existence and desire is
to acquire the fruit of the pair tree,
bite in, 
and revel in all that the juice has to offer.

Heart Chakra enamored