Your gift of Daumal,
a hefty one,
the strong lifts of cacophony threaten the holy octave.
Dread of Muladhar
at the inception of the sleep, spread focus
across the back bones
rib cage array splayed
as a knowledge of generation.
Conversations regarding population control,
seizing of minds,
thinking death transformation.
Everyone
has Art to share with this World.
The sleep narrative, the bone sheer,
Everyone is an Artist.
The fugitive state, the stream bed, swimmer of discord,
tongue kisser of the Demon.
A course set with vomit, fear, danger,
bile pools a domicile for the languid rested.
Prophecy as marker as re-imagination
for
Travelling soul creatures newly arrived.
And how the Vile transcends into dark reflection,
lost light wisps succumb to the cold
lost communication,
dark place of folly.
Centers that become the forced retreat, primal forces,
now backwater, infuse
naked intellect.
The rousing Grasshoppers
now loose
within the sacred
chaotic night.