A Poem about Nothing.
I reach across
too long for solemn roots to take hold
who passes upon such ethereal gaiety?
a witch
possessed by an amalgamation of dark corners
the aspect devours her
arranged like jaunted heretical spheres
a spectacle of deductive convention
paused
forever in suspension
holding hands with archangels
descending into a circular adjournment
the words transcend
the words absorb him through the abyss of unknowing
until he sees all that can be seen
and all that cannot
his gentle faults laid before him as handles upon time
reaching forwards into the shrouded dusk
his hands
falling upon soft edges beyond the aspect
hedging in little spaces in eternity
a macroscopic perspective
between good and evil
beyond
above
a humble smile twinkling across his being.
knowingly drifting in nothingness.
where else?
Axle.
