Saturday, August 15, 2009


Anchored in the present (tense), between Now and the Fog of Inaction, are simmering unchartered grey waters. Colors, scintillating and blinding, reflect off the metallic surface. Words fail to bind, one touch and absorb. She is poison! May I die the little death?

Oh Legend of the Alchemists! Pure madness, broken men line your shores. And for how long? Time is meaningless for an Element. Contradiction, solid and metal, heavy, yet formless. All these bodies betray a heady past, but who knows? Dementia.

Where ever-shifting Luna, the Moon, touches Earth with her pale light is where you are found. Every-where and yet no-time. No beginning, no end, no disintegration. Flow on free spirit, nothing can hold you!


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