it's about life, and the push to death...

it's about reverence to the clawing of high priestess energy, as she demands tribute for her life-imbuing presence.

it's about acceptance of the loving chokehold of sorceress pain, search for respite from her merciless abandon.

it's about total devotion to reverend sister exhaustion, complete submission to the lashings of her breathless whip.

it's about humility, begging at the feet of reverend mother hunger, as she teasingly toys with my famished consciousness.

it's about discipline, enduring enchantress delirium's gentle wrath as she withdraws my fix of H, O, Na, K with a series of strokes to the delete key of life.

it's about my search for the elusive light that guides and inflames, frustrates, and dismays…for she toys with me, knows i will never reach her--i am no Buddha, Bodhisattva, or otherwise…i am not worthy despite the hopeless righteousness of my quest.

releasing the genie

back from the dead.
back from the land of the dead.
back from a land of death.
Back from death...

if not to life.

suns and moons took me away.
suns and moons imprisoned me.
suns and moons brought me back in the end.
if not by you given, i welcome myself...

or do i?

take me away

"trance me, light with no name," say i;
don't know you, yet seek you must i."

tranquil ending, live to reach you;
expiate woes, surrender to you.

travesty end, raw truth binds us;
allegory of hope, numbs us.

tragic my fate, certain am i.
timeless contentment, desire i.

trap me, gently worn blanket, you;
help me endure to adore you.

and thus

and thus, i further deviate from the purpose of this bipolar ring, a
fact hopefully overlooked by this embracing community. these words,
those verses, which reflect my state of mind sometimes implicitly, at
times explicitly, my humble return. you gave me a start, your
attention, my first readership, and for that, i will be ever so
grateful.

a sincere non-self-deprecating post, this one; a realistic perspective
that considers your time sacrifice as a reader.

deviate

60 seconds you dedicate to reading these esoteric word constructs,
attempts at expressing unordinary emotions in atypical ways.

60 seconds you share generously for nothing in return--a passing
pleasure, a thought triggered, the extent of this nothingness?

60 seconds of your time in direct proportion to an average of 440
seconds of my time writing these words.

60 seconds of your time before your attention is diverted voluntarily
or not, elsewhere.

60 seconds, the reason why I have focused on the poetic form as of
late, as it seemingly aligns with the 60 seconds of your undivided
attention.

60 seconds I strive to make worthwhile, for you will not recoup this
lost time, and further, i will not have the opportunity to take in the
future: you will simply not return.

60 seconds of delusion, thinking you read through my last post.

60 seconds that rule my reality.