The Gate of Horn
The Art of Unconsciousness
The moon has cast darkness to this niche
and how I love seeing you with your eyes closed.
I love thinking of you in some secular world of unity
and how far gone your ideas were (in the American mind),
but more grounded upon dismissal.

What was just a conversation exploded into a
mutually assuaging debate and the vernacular crossfire left me dumbfounded,
your intellect transcending the bar,
and I do love fitting this square into a round hole
(despite ensuing chaos).

When the smoke finally clears, I am certain I will see myself
as you have been seen, dissuaded by conformity,
though in the satin folds of this private discussion
it is difficult to imagine myself anywhere else.
I hope you will always live in the art of unconsciousness.
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