ST94 ... mystery... She is my love, beauty, dying upon the shores of thought.
She i s m y destiny….
i am seeing surrendering being of you, mystery. i have nothing i am nowhere everywhere. there is light knowing emptiness full of you, mystery. i am i am not i am here i am gone.
Look at them helpless, helpless. That one there wandering thru the silent forest, caressing every sense with her heart. She is seeing, bending reality across her shoulders, floundering truth down upon her breasts, smelling life in every crevice of rock to flower. She is the beauty we talk about, the love dancing in the night, the spirit of wonder glistening across the waters. She is my love, beauty, dying upon the shores of thought
With her simple glance the wild in the weeds rush across the fields and deliver hidden waves of faith upon the skies. The world is beaming with wonder, wild with truth, full with magic. There is no darkness absent of light, the black heavens sprinkled in stars, deep space dancing in plasma, larvae swarming everywhere. She is my mother, she is the creation in my dreams, the purity of my being.
Along the tracks towards the cities i noticed solitude full of himself, watching with one eye closed, feeling the winds spreading tickling thoughts of time into the myth of mind. The magic of the storm in all that is, across the glorious space of this universe. Time, space and magic, the reality of the mystery far beyond the reach of thought and all its illusions, conclusions, beauty wavering about everywhere. She i s m y destiny….
In the room full of chairs, tables upon tables, questions floating in the air, answers smashing against the walls, a single man sits with his back upon the wall searing into the wide space across the heavens and watches as the world mingles in delight, in destruction, across eons of foreseen abstracts where nothing really matters and then vanishes…leaves one last reflection wavering, weaving, winding about for anyone to see, transcend, morph, into the spaceless timeless mysterious all encompassing beyond beyond beyond.
He sat back down gave his head a shake. He had life yet to live, dreams yet to shine, known and unknown, his few friends glanced back at him as he was leaving for the coast, the long coast… thought he was brave, thought he was nuts.
He erased himself from them, settled in a simple village somewhere filled with complex souls all searching for something that could never be, clear, certainty was nothing more than a moment on edge, doomed to end and beautiful.
He was never heard of again.
Note:
I appreciate your readership! I do, really. This is my way of watching thoughts sail thru the open sky, wrestling with the wind. If you are amused/inspired reading these wayward words and would love to support my work, buy me a coffee or a paid subscription; but do please pass it on to someone whom you believe might appreciate these posts and the delicate efforts of their creation.
A writer without a reader is like a day without a storm.
I thank you.
A coffee !
Hang Me Up…. Images
WeyWord Times / Writing and Images by Patrick Wey
Waves of faith upon the skies; lovely, impressionistic with the right upper grass border being the 'truth teller'. I keep coming back to it, and the title is so fitting. Nice.