In Darkness Growing

Cool and damp, in darkness growing.
Natural, the highs of its endurance.
Constellating nourishment or death.
No one knows the choices made by depth.

The forest sleeps, as pixies come
to eat the mushrooms growing there.
A sacramental rite of sacrifice.
Conscious choice must be left far behind.

Addiction is another word for choice.
Too often, the familiar bodes us ill.
As bases of men's knowledge find
a constancy in changing all their minds.

Idioms and paradigms. The fantasies
of ego's great inflation. Call it intellect,
and still the base of their equations
cannot fathom the real feel of life in form.

For the chemistry is still invisible.
No matter their high powered microscopes.
Man and woman - meant to be together.
Unhinged at best by what they name as matter.

Terror comes of the invisible.
Quivering and shaking, not allowing
depth of feel into the mix.
While everything they fix
breaks down again.

Cool and damp, in darkness growing.
Natural, the highs of its endurance.
Constellating nourishment or death.
No one knows the choices made by depth.

The forest sleeps, as pixies come
to eat the mushrooms growing there.
A sacramental rite of sacrifice.
Conscious choice must be left far behind.

But not for just a moment, no.
For here we learn to live eternity.
Magical, the mystery inherent
in the grinding pitch of each
emotion felt.

Acknowledge it. You'll find
the depths of earth that blossom,
cyclically, in you. You know its true.
The light and dark both have their
hold on you...

? Michaelette ?

9/26/2003
Copyright© 2003 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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