Peaking viscerally In and out of Swirling colors absent Form struggles to be. Like the firefly’s glow Amidst menacing and Habitual dark It thrives but for a Moments unsteady beat Into rawhide, oblong Drums representing Separate instances all, And darkness recollapses
Chaos revels, I am sworn against its motion. II. Order And over the chaos—success!
Momentum is gained, Ecstasy is directed into a circular motion! Order is circumscribed ‘round its edges With patterns of lights and sound, A seraphic singing, A definite language, Efficient phonetics, and beauty. The inspired sound folds And builds lattice-work harmonies upon itself Bracing one octave against another To the architectural heights Where a point of observation can be built.
From a point of observation Can come a point of reflection It is a process—processes develop— Affecting and extinguishing chaos, With academies and libraries, Rising from the depths of a will, Domed roofs, Rows and the columns, Doctrines, Formulas, All variables defined, All persons accounted for.
Moments of brilliance Now vary sinusoidally with darkness. They, like the perfect gleam Of a rounded glass containing, Focusing the erratic gleams Of a firefly’s glow, Light an understood summer’s night. And come night, I retire And practice porch arts, And look out at the labyrinths I’ve sown, Imposed and sustainable nourishment, I sit and I strum A Pythagorean lute, A stringed instrument That is always perfectly in tune.
I am pleased with the synchronization. Everything is synchronized. But I’ve never felt more alone.