Lux Aeterna


all of the emotions like water running underneath the bridge that you build
to reach the sky like a rainbow, stretching translucent skin over the
chalice of your mind, some words to bless the communion of substance to
feeling. stand with your arms folded against the railing and watch your
emotions moving, swirling, always new, always the same. it is a fabulous
picture show, is it not? somehow, even as you get caught up in the
currents, it seems that you already know the end. the narrative will always
enclose itself. but you–you are free. you are blessed, you are flowing,
and you are so far away shining down into yourself, your beauty a gem so
sacred that it can never sold. i’m trying to refrain from making lists.
what you are is something multi-dimensional focused to a point. one mind,
one act, one moment. shit, there i go again. listen, the fact is that we
are all saying the same thing, everyone in this world is breathing the same
breath into different languages. everything pours down from the source and
dances together and disappears into the spray. around and around and upside
down. suddenly i think of this girl at the coffee shop today, her lips
large, her tongue slipping out from between them before she spoke, questing,
unconscious like a mole straining into the light. what that has to do with
anything is anyone’s guess. but i really wanted to tango that tongue into
my own, to fly soaring on an updraft with wings spread in the space of one
song, then to part solemnly, formally depart into bows in the face of a
family of faceless humanity. yes, and yet: how you can be dry, even when
you are wet. up on the deck of the bridge, the water running through your
hair. a solid beat to a time that is washing. a fragment of a sentence in
the flowing narrative of time. the space is a voice all its own that you
listen to before you speak. here the hum in the echo of the image of your
light.

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Author: manderson

I live in NYC.

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