To weave
What is woven
Fade to gray.
To speak
The unspoken
Concepts decay.
All judgement
Is broken
In this stillness.
Time ceases
To be a concept
In this interim,
It is.
In this stillness,
It is.
In the gray,
It is.
hope you don't mind to write [or echoing] your texts... things seems [the kind of doppler effect percepction] travels to strange-mystical maze that we tend to cross through space-time of others, and rest over all this pale impressions dreaming, peharps, some comprehension of real impact that each of us can cause around...
lindsey evening living by ramonlvdiaz
maybe surrender is also surround and environ entire oceans on everybody odd sinus through odysseys and lindsey's cry, until seemingly atoll and render a new kind of pure circle sans perimeters or frozen future of immaterial all flowers, according to n-dimensions which are too lotus and sathivas, reaching your blue redshifiting against too many solid walls and the same sad weekends that we hasn't heart to broken or flow to thermodynamic love.
so i'don't want any kind of frame that disturb lone lakes and same static praisings, decaying personal beauty that hide your universal dream upon your tired eyes exhausted of meaning all kinds of porcelain that we ascribe without any sense of knowing, unblooming your scarlet leaves and facing wrong sides with others reverses forgotten among ecosystems and catharsis.
lindsey starling libras to south poles, in quadrilinic sails that's your inconclude body on high seas beyond all samsaras and seventh signs to unbreak the broken inside too equinoxes and glasses to magnify her intimacy with eletromagnetic axis and all baryonic mass that flex-reflex her iris and osiris on sunken unstable deserts only alignments, colors and emotions on same proportion that i could embrace radically Poe's to let go all my own remained and innermost scream with no one shout seizing the single point of everything. maybe one day we can love like you interlace those past springs, saying silent words to open this marble, and create a society of suspended souls upon a time of absolute purification and wingless flight of icarus with none down, and hoping the third riverside along you forever going and undoing your new dawn: "each person passing is a portal to divine."
hope you don't mind to write [or echoing] your texts... things seems [the kind of doppler effect percepction] travels to strange-mystical maze that we tend to cross through space-time of others, and rest over all this pale impressions dreaming, peharps, some comprehension of real impact that each of us can cause around...
ReplyDeletelindsey evening living by ramonlvdiaz
maybe surrender is also surround and environ entire oceans
on everybody odd sinus through odysseys and lindsey's cry,
until seemingly atoll and render a new kind of pure circle
sans perimeters or frozen future of immaterial all flowers,
according to n-dimensions which are too lotus and sathivas,
reaching your blue redshifiting against too many solid walls
and the same sad weekends that we hasn't heart to broken or
flow to thermodynamic love.
so i'don't want any kind of frame that disturb lone lakes
and same static praisings, decaying personal beauty that
hide your universal dream upon your tired eyes exhausted
of meaning all kinds of porcelain that we ascribe without
any sense of knowing, unblooming your scarlet leaves and
facing wrong sides with others reverses forgotten among
ecosystems and catharsis.
lindsey starling libras to south poles, in quadrilinic sails
that's your inconclude body on high seas beyond all samsaras
and seventh signs to unbreak the broken inside too equinoxes
and glasses to magnify her intimacy with eletromagnetic axis
and all baryonic mass that flex-reflex her iris and osiris on
sunken unstable deserts only alignments, colors and emotions
on same proportion that i could embrace radically Poe's to let
go all my own remained and innermost scream with no one shout
seizing the single point of everything.
maybe one day we can love like you interlace those past springs,
saying silent words to open this marble,
and create a society of suspended souls
upon a time of absolute purification and
wingless flight of icarus with none down,
and hoping the third riverside along you
forever going and undoing your new dawn: "each person passing is a portal to divine."
[10/30/2012, Paraty - Brazil]
[holostasis.blogspot.com]