9
(1 votes)
| Rating | Rated by |  | | 9 | chapter1 | |
You must login to vote
|
|
|
Lit
Feral with primordial fervor thrumming
We lean into our bright, shallow windows
To lap at fire through earnest eyes, to slake
Each eternally restless inner Prometheus
How we are all children by this light’s shade
How our urchin hands clasp at fractured fables
While our shadowed lips spill the broken language
Of naked experience, its linear distortions
Yet in and through this spill, our ribald chanting jibes
Streams a liquid wealth betwixt, pixilated, a quicksilver
Flashing in rolling warbles of inspiration, restlessly
Combustable, transformable, blinding as raw alcohol
Weaving, then, midst object and metaphor, phantasm and craft
Intoxicated, blustering, saturated and trailing an impermeable ink
Across a webbed and infinite mock-sky, we are working through reaction
The mercurial alchemy of connectedness – we are lit
We are lit by play’s pure plasma, freely broken up and scattered
We are lit by a seeker’s bold desire to see further beyond the known
We are lit by the blushing of demigods – discovery – the fire within the flame
------
"All the darkness in the world
cannot put out the light
of one candle"
|
Sun on a Mountain
