And what does the angel kisser say? Let it all go. Blast it out in radial arms so the spirits can glow in incandescence where the void bellows open from the release... So I do. I let go the blind monsters that hid in elastic lining. I flatline their horns and whiskers and stand in the nothingness for a beat of one before calling in the chimes that ring on the breeze of a cool summer spring. Refreshment from the red and sticky... And palms up and palms open and psalms sacred. And deep like velvet, free like silk. And neo.
And breathing in gratitude now, and praying to be recruited by the beyond stars. My high score of Thank You's may be approaching a token...
Mystery is the seed that has grown a jungle I enjoy but sometimes I want to climb the vines and peek at the flowers before they've even bloomed... Once a future flower sent me a seed on the breeze and I'm keeping it in my locket 'til it's time. But the thing I wrestle to the ground 'til something goes ow, is time. Because I don't know if it's 8:33 post meridiem or if it's the eleventh hour. I don't know. And I don't know why I need to know other than anxiety bobbles in the knit. Maybe I can reverse stitch and undo those knots or maybe the pollen of the future flower will have the power to melt my rehearsed skip a beat.
Water is a flame that melts the stone and makes love of the dissolved sands.
Time. Please rhyme with