A double Helix extends downward.
I am traveling through apocryphal time
just in order to find you,
through neolithic hallways of extinction.
The golden compass points North
into the great chasms of wealth.
Its stairs are prisms repeating themselves.
The stars in the sky are eyes.
I idolize the sky endlessly.
The rhythm of the wind informs us of the weather.
We are alienated by time
as if finality were a single destination.
I evaporate into dreams.
The milk of fountains inebriates
all the white trees.
A trail of tears
drowns our countless lives.
The question is of emancipation.
Another dream
springs up in nature
divided by twilight.
Essence is the secret,
said the moonlight,
the magic of seekers.
Go and find the gold
in the petal of a sunflower,
in the arm of a sun,
in the center of the womb,
in the claws of terra.
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