There are depths beneath my heart, a hollow , hallowed, hallowing to the light above, bellowing to the trace of promises
I know the words and won�t remember them
secret words opening invisible gates
Howsoever becoming, how might I be integral? I have had dreams I�d be eternal, that something in the light, in space could save me, contain me, let me withdraw to a distance so finite, so infinite, I could stare on the speck of entirety and grin or waver, as light chooses, I could wrinkle over the rapture of tidings and biddings, harkening and harkening, take it upon myself with the reckoning of a mad dimension, resemble, confound, maligning myself with still orders, garrulous with the ridings of fulcrums, flushed with soon-to-be, wish-angry, momently enshrined.
I have not lost my temper. Each fold speaks of new depths, the infinitesimal within, the boundless without. These revolve into agenda. I resolve to find my ends. They run and change, splinter and retire. I am splinter for another. I bask, speak, partake, distain, apprehend, am made of nuances at fault. Believe in my disbelief. I am explosively paradoxical. Breathe, and realize if I wasn�t there I won�t be. I blanket what you cannot see. But I am searchless, tired. I linger.
The key to name-usage is to scope the invisible with the precariously titled, that is, to speak of nothing mentioned, or rather to shape something sure of things that are nothing but carapaces�to hold the water in ones hands, or (to drink wine of an animal skull...?)
anyhow, what is shaped of words ought not to be integral in the full sense; ought not to be enjambed in the cruel fashion of most argument, rather there ought to be a single step, a stair as to Aladdin�s cave, in the desert, one entrance to the secrets found beneath, and from that one stair a palatial gardens is met, and suddenly each secret converges on another, and a palpable form is educed of ether , something arises and a complete phantasmogoria holds sway, pure of itself to the extent that it is to be trusted beyond all further things, it is a world of its own, is not to be penetrated., but entertained, (ensoverished) reduced, discerned, compiled, esteemed, (enured, regailed, hoisted, furled, roiled, worlded, lorded, extolled, empalled, palled, frault, frought, roiled, walled, locked, landed, mentioned, sook, sanctified, tempered, trumpeted, ...)
NO REASON FOR LOVE
Love to ease from pain,
a pain at root in fault,
a fault no root in love
No love takes root in fault.
Beloved are not at fault;
approach and break the lot
of he whose roots are cut,
of he beloved for naught.
His ends are not your lot.
your love is not his fault.
No reason favors him.
his love is not his fault.
Advent I: An Understanding