Infinity's Glass

Midnight Stroll

 I stroll the ancient streets at night and feel the echoes of old footsteps

My heart is like a strange ornament of love

My mind is more magnetically aligned toward the untouchable

As precious petals of love are unfolding at midnight

The stars shine on in rivers

There is a lake filled with rich jewels

I wade surreptitiously

There is a world within a world caught in a cloud

Where reality blends with make-believe

As I open my hand a vine extends upward

Touching the stars

There is a whisper in the streets

As I reach a dead end 

A vision is revealed to my third eye

With mystical pleasures

I realize I've been kept away from my dreams too long

And now I'm following my heart to reveal the secrets of shadows

The end game of the universe is to become like a flower unfurled.

I eventually disappear lost beneath the moonlight's infamy

Tiles on Sea

It was once said that

Blue is the color of ecstacy 

My dreams are full of the lush moss of trees 

The world is seemingly frail

With every touch it grows more purple

This vortex of self-consuming entropy

This menagerie of distorted mirrors

A female visage is blowing a soft breeze by the ocean

As the morning dreams itself awake

The seasons are meant to arrive like angels

Let the curtains unfurl themselves

As cotton as the nights

Like waves resembling tiles on the sea

I was never born

 The cardinal rule of existence is found in levity.

Are you cast from spirit or

from somewhere nameless?

Love is shone down in mirrors.

The grass is full of roses

where silence understands us all.

We're looking in the card catalog for answers

which evade us.

The willows sing enchanted songs.

Each vine is a psychedelic eye

on to which visions are ineffably born.

Heaven can you tell us a story?

It never seems to snow there.

The moths are untouched,

as white light circumscribes the landscape;

they're leaning towards flight or glory.

Do not speculate on that which has yet to pass.

Do not fear heights or immovable objects.

When your time comes sit as still as possible, as if

 you were never born.

We're always thinking of somewhere else;

we're all just waterfalls.

Archetypical Moonlight

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.

The Through Night

It is in the through night

that slowly passes through itself

like an automatic memory

where we are permitted 

freedom to glide with myth

and undergo transformation

we are ageless

we are satellites

there is no Dharma

there is no final symphony

the night is a sorcerer

casting its spell

I stroke its hair

strand by strand

its lips pressed forward

in order to be kissed

there is a green emerald

in the beak of a bird

speeding downward

into the threshold of awareness

into limitless daylight

which gives birth to a sun

faraway forests relate to

some destiny yet to be revealed

there is an eye in the clouds

drunken on disbelief

there is a simile in the shadows

which familiarizes itself with love

every book is written into the stars

and those maps and coordinates which lead to

treasures are held there too

my gentle hand caresses the night again

a large opal cracks to reveal

its ants which race up the arm endlessly

I pull from my heart a single rose

and set it on the stone

interleaved fingers give way to a fertile sky

consciousness is

the emerald dream

surrounded by garlands

its rose colored horizon is sublime

into which the night is finally engulfed

It Seems

 It Seems

In the winter, love.

In the summer, fortune.

Hearts gather in laughter.

An immense tapestry

hangs the veil.

The flowers are our diamonds.

There in honey we wait,

anxious for the undressing

of ourselves to the clouds.

A little love is grabbed onto and kept

in its secret case

with a delicate hand.

With a little love

synapses grow

and reach out to opposite lands,

hungry,

where white radiance burns.

The sun sets down on something

it seems is important.

White lily,

you are far away.

Wide oceans,

the songs I've heard.