Invocation

mugdock

INVOCATION

What is it that we seek?
This endlessly receding horizon
the cloud patterns of autumn skies
hazed, combed, teased froth:
the residue of Gaia’s wordless thoughts
etched across the cranial blue
only water vapour, only everything
artwork, emotion, sublime beyond
human hope or comprehension
each day is each day’s message
writ large in naught but
the medium of life is what
life means and commands of us
whispering: shine out
for what you are, take every taste
upon the tongue and burn, burn
until you are only blackened ashes
with which to polish, cherish
our restless, ardent star
the diamond of the sun.

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This entry was posted in Photography, Poetry, Psychology, Uncategorized, Writing. Bookmark the permalink.

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