Wrapped inside the dusty breaths,
Of old times and elapsed airs,
I feel the fire which burns,
Deep in the gullet.
Slowly, it trickles down.
Warming and alarming,
Taste the flame that chars me,
Waste the blame that tars me.
My being is coated with grave heaviness,
A glutinous, crushing weight,
I feel the collapse of mind and spirit,
The truth, I can’t get near it.
But it calls from so far away.
Whispering in the winds of fallacy.
Blanketed by deceit and buried in guile,
Sincerity bubbles its way to the surface,
Limitless and open for just one moment,
Before being pulled back under.
Like a snapshot in the moonlight,
Timing is everything.
Will not prevail.
Not on this day,
Not on this mind,
Not on the life of the mystic.
To waste would be wholly sadistic.
Let the tears flow in grand rivers,
Balancing the great fire
That smolders inside an inferno
Which shall never be extinguished.
For one needs the other.
And the other?
The other needs all.
So taste it and breathe it,
Envelope it and seethe it,
And deny not the existence,
Of solemn’s secret world.
From it, eternity’s unfurled.
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