beyond time, space and soul
yet still ever in it, stringing some paradox shel yihyeh
penetrating spirit boundaries, flowing with the flame
seeing through a mother's eye, where nothing
yet inhabits the mind, percolating on a pivot
collapsing packed together into one place that is not
point, line or area
neither dark nor light, without beginning or end, elusive
yet caught in the dance of returning singularities
a metamorphosis, trustworthy, crafted in the art
lit with expressions, piles and piles simply complex
living in the language, made with the essence
of the divine
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment