comes to a stop...
just shrapnel left to pick up the peace
bleak blackouts in lamentation.
grief strewn & stricken shock.
emptied of broken narrratives,
except the mere pain unspeakable.
Surrounded by ever lengthening shadows;
tattered souls submerged in disarray.
Confined to puncture fragilities
dripping somberous anathema involuntarily,
as the pale glamours
o christ, child,
one wishes it could be easier.
this raw & piercing cold,
smoldering our endurance,
blowing out the pilot light,
cutting any prime connection,s
off time & time again.
All conquered, at
deep, morose & mourning.
the ever comatose.
the endless in crash common coryza,
the machinations of callous commerce
sustain these rusted arterials of
grating taciturn diseased flesh,
careening pallid stale slate tundra empyreon.
crushed asunder unspeakable feats
& under facts, helpless.
can there be no denial of dharma
in the perilous parallax of existence?
total point = suffering, tribulation & precious brevity.
yet all alone.
yet still never apart from
this all encompassing sorrow constant.
whittle down destiny,
as the world turns
on a dime,
...or so it seems upon this deterministic stage sublime...
can liberty be attained?
can empty tombstone bones ever be bound beyond
rite rote restriction?
could being ever resist the urge for repetition?
is there only surface despair amongst creviced catatonics?
mere static rhetoric,
betwixt the flaw & ruin of petrified airspace
tuned to strains of background radiation,
fatally fragmenting for perpetuation?
an accidental hesitation,
decision jagged pulsating,
rapid vermilion careening,
clasped at the clutch;
the moment sinks
into the stream.
& only regret remains.
a transient dance carries us to
the curtain fall,
as bright new snow veils
over the old ashes,
still rings in reverberation of
carelessly evaporated aetheric.
where information transforms
transcending the bonds of phenomena,
breaking chains of thanatotic mantras,
virulent representations reiterating that
"all things must pass"...
but love, most certainly, surely,.
conquers all things. . .
it shall always come & it shall all ways go.
one cannot but must carry on.
even this mystery can be beautiful:
that nothing ceases,
except the tears,
which find clarity reflecting
amidst the disillusion.
that moment found,
right before the everglowing apparition rises
try without trying.
seek not this,
this sentence is over
you are free