Poeticese

kyghost.deviantart.com

kyghost.deviant art.com/Astral Projection

~*Coil End*~

Buoyant

at last,

blasted

out questionless,

thrown where

crystal calls

Eternal

Horn tower

nearer than

never,

beckoned by dark

windows,

beckoned but passed

over,

weightless

nerevarine

at coil’s first end

…and perish was a dream,

an instantaneous

pool one galaxy behind…two…

Invoked of pur~

pose

these starry bands,

grassless moors of Next

Focused

solely forward,

perhaps

disabled of emotion

perhaps

the mission

~*∞∞∞∞∞∞*~

Ripples

~*Us In Ripples*~

We wake in waves

when surfacing,

thawing from

spring thought

in autumn sun.

The change in light,

a change in us

all that exists,

song filling

empty notes or left unsung.

Rippled

as we are 

rippled,

empty notes left unsung

filled by

the that there is:

the change in light

and the change in us.

We are song and autumn sun.

We are spring thought,

thawing.

  

When surfacing

we wake in waves.

Blameless or blamed

it matters not.

We are ode and nocturne,

instruments

at once harmonic and toneless.

Blasphemed or christened, we cling

to the names that were given us.

 

We suffer on purpose!

As molecules form matter

pain is reason to vibrate

faster,

rippling

as we are.

Rippling

faster,

pain vibrates in us a reason

to remain molecular, or to matter.

We suffer on purpose

for the names that were given us,

blasphemed or christened.

We cling, at once harmonic and toneless,

played as instruments

by ode and nocturne emotions.

 

It matters not which;

nameless and named

we all wake in waves.

We hurt each other,

meaning or meaning not to.

We hurt ourselves

when we know or don’t know better.

Risking open war

we break ties, mother and child.

We huddle close together

when years seem to end

somewhere.

 

When the gods don’t seem to care

it is we who have broken ourselves,

cracking

as we have been shown.

 

With rippling,

it’s we who heal ourselves

when heaven seems so near.

When years seem to end nowhere

we laugh together.

We mend ties, child and mother,

risking love

once we know better.

 

We save ourselves,

meaning or not meaning to.

We save each other.

 

We wake in waves,

born in rage or

in rapture,

of never or foreverafter

it doesn’t matter which.

Not yet symmetrical

but perfect,

not the mask

but starlit

and overjoyed to be it

all

as the drop folds in on itself,

just beginning to comprehend,

rippled

as it’s known to be.

We are ripples

just beginning to comprehend

the drop folding in on itself,

all

and overjoyed to be it;

starlit,

not the mask

but perfect,

not yet symmetrical

but it doesn’t matter now.

Of never or foreverafter,

born of rapture or

of rage

we wake in waves.

 

For pain or pleasure

we align when time is right,

we design or we do not.

Syzygy,

one planet aligned with all the others.

They’re all the same,

mirroring me in you

like hot and cool and thunder,

sky surface

rippling

as waves and we are,

rippling

the sky’s surface like hot and cold do.

Thunder

mirroring me in all of you.

 

It’s the same beat in time

with all others:

Syzygy.

We design or we do not,

we align when time is right.

For lack or for treasure

we wake in waves,

days move so fast,

we crumble clocks of cavern stone.

In this moment

all that exists

is our experience, and

ours is just one,

this

ripple,

the same

ripple,

this.

 

Ours is just one.

Is our experience

all that exists?

*

In this moment

we carve clocks of cavern stone.

Days move so fast.

We wake in waves.

Andromeda

~*Andromedalight: A Matter of Perception*~

Upon the Irradiate Stair
broken
Moone gloats Her slick disgust
of humans
observing coldly from afar
as Saturn’s rings cut clean to bone.
Pleiades, alone,
each Sister in fixed space apart
losing weight, losing heart in her function
chooses sleep, dreams of regret
imprisoned in webs of hopelessness
and illusion.
Dark matter clouds, confuses,
confounds in unforgiveness
spreading sickness through black holes
who further the extension.
Galaxies clash in melee chaos
planes holding strict to gravity
blocking the way to change
as the light…
O’, the dying Andromeda light
beyond the thin film of sanity
glares down upon the last,
ghastly gasp at the end of Everything.

Upon the Nocturne Stair
Moone waves in elegant wisdom
and on Her breath trails Saturn’s rings
preserving the mortal shell
in wait for travel,
its ghost arisen.
Sisters draw close together,
Pleiadic,
whose endless awakenings from slumber
give rise constellat webs
like maps to the distant future.
Dark matter, prophetic,
magnifies each black hole’s promise
reforming foundation,
beginnings,
purpose,
fueling galactic dances of expansion
paralleling planes in delicate dimension and
Andromeda…
O’, Andromeda,
careening towards blissful union
bows to its last endeavor,
each harmonic turn
closing ground the graceful space of forEver.

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