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That Is What They Say

and in time at the vast expanse, which one, follow eyes falling minds through mindless dews

seperafted as splitting cells splinter out like the mirror cracked staring into the candle flame

was once a face next to me sitting in the sanctuary floating above all things, be moved, to be


I could never laugh again couldn't recall a time that I have lately contemplating the vast un-

ending march into the abyss common sense visions masking visions with second hands quick

endeavour leather tethered to the mast of the ship onwards towards a more bitter end burn

at each and with thee I find wherefore art thou standing beneath the summer's sun some

place deep within the forest scene full of leaves barely a one hast dropped the upper hand

valiant man revolution of planets within and for whom do they spin revolving circles without

expanding explaining a stone skipping crost the surface of the face of the lake a far more

distant place than where art we now, where have we been, what art thou doing here a more

solemn beginning a more humble prayer, each night the same, and yet never does it repeat

nor do the words ring out beneath the moonlit face weeping blush forever us could be could

we could possibly be a thing happening silver shines brighter beneath the moon still at the

touch of the fozen pond all moving things stop moving eventually all still things being one to

believe it is the thought that moves nor is it nought the understanding where do minds see

themselves reflection of the diamonds shining in the hallways retreat like rain falling to hit

and splash running feet of the childrens laughter it gets away from me sometimes it does it

running the paint thick from the brush drip dropping the face of the instance of a moment

just shifting landscapes recreating worlds of lost epiphanies falling wordless at the silence

what do you do promises written in dust letter by letter while spilling blood from my brother

cut neck vintage throat collared dog for collared greens and felt at the touch more silk than

lace more red lace bleeding through the broken hours minute hand for a captivating play of

death defying mastery set fire to the whole thing couldn't find a more solid frame built from

the tree felled by the leaf just one more it twas just the one that was far too heavy bark form

darts thrown groaning skeletons wrapped in arms have you earned your weapons son have

you been to the darkness at back again, againe, have you learned your lessons yet, truth ahs

it made to be we've barely begun and at the beginning wast there the end found for thee or

for her or for what dost it matter to me, my heart, more ancient play of the dramatic faces in

the glass shifting masks switching addresses revealing thy hands to be empty of the sand of

time's glass shattering across the face of the waiter at the place where we left it then, what is

absoluteness in omniscient eminence from emerging mirages lifting like incense smoke yet

the scent of the rose the scent of the rose at the tip of my tongue or for better or for worse

memories drift by like dead bodies carried by horses how many hands does it take to lift the

broken wagon wheel from the mud of rainy days, dare you to touch it again, all falls away

like histories great one, grand, hanging hands at the hips for voodoo mistresses begger lips

for a kiss of the snake dripping fangs posionous language spelled curses in cursive accursed

twist the knot for the fifth turning of the wheel we've yet to enter the gate we're far from the

stream just a desert step pyramidial clicks the mechanism again wherefore i am once where

unto the falling chains lifts the spirit from the precipice and the weight enrapturing the soul

with stakes driven deeper into stone my body the theif himself cut throat for aching necks of

lotuses thrown collect each diamond from the necks of the cult hanging suspended like rain

drops of jeweled mindless neurotic nuances for a boy's fingerprint just a child then for some

common understanding forever one the baskets three forever the song from the tune of the

gypsy forever lost the mindless mind the guileless guilty offenders frothing snarling teeth o

what is the belief in the cave of theives shall it be red of the days ringed finger o shall it be

white of the caskets hood arm raised pulling that secret catch that loop of the lamp smoke

haloed for LOVE what a darling one what a promise of tis' more a sullen sworn signature for

the soul that longs for eternity that shall be, what shall be, this we have known, and shall we

continue on foot falls in the desert sand twas' just the thought of a movement of the spiralin

circuit bored again born against the wind lifting angel wings call thyself a demon and thee

shall be more than happy to find the willing powers that be over seas dug deep ancient tree

beneath the surface of the face of the shining surface of the lake all things rising lift and all

things falling flow to and from and back and forth all and every of the one thousand arms

shifting landscapes like dreams in the minds of spiders rearranged for the table set for the

date what day is it again who has the time repition of the vipers bite revolutions in space

thoroughly illusive to the timeless dawn for a black candle flame black it is when the writing

of the name in flames forever a distance into the desert of slaves further one cannot see no

it is a mirage this miracle it is just a miracle of misinterpretation reinterpreting all the ways

it is to be one with something one with a belief in all things lifted from the mirrored light

reflecting into the nothingness that is held within the diamonds still in each directions spill

and at each facet of the spinning dance the jeweled light beams read a language that is

speaks in tongues flickering from the vastness of each soliloquies dripping without thought

from the outside within and within nothingness emptiness the black flame dost nought burn

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