Swirling

Swirling into images of monstrous recognition.
Wind whipping clouds into another round of inhibition.
Steely cold, the front moves in before its given time.
There is little that the mind cannot conceive.
Thwarted by emotion, still, we grieve the loss
of all we used to be. Innocence become the cost
of living out of sync with make-believe.

The living dead - which one of us will claim
the title now...? Dissipating in the mists of all
we never dared to live before. Venturing where
capitals afford a splendid view, and alternate
realities insist that they are due. Our eyes become
an artist's brush - each touch is numinous.
And everything we feel must be divine.
Images released from the great crystals of the mind.

Endlessly, the facets shimmer, showing us the way,
to places where the child in us can play. Deep and high,
an endless sky of mind's imagining. Released from
all the heaviness that memories can bring. Yet building
on the residue of everything that ever came before.
Reprogramming the flow of what's grown old and stale
by wont of nothing more. Opening another door
that leads into forever.

Swirling into images of monstrous recognition.
Wind whipping clouds into another round of inhibition.
Steely cold, the front moves in before its given time.
Rising high, the flames abide, inside.
Glowing grown into a light
that leads us all back home...

? Michaelette ?

10/30/2002
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Take me home . . .