Ujukta

Optical Effervescence. Blissful blizzards of core-metallic tonights. Harmonized to the moment by the violinist who plays the puppet strings.

Something we release with relish. Memories we recall as if to sow so carefully into the soil like seeds.

If this evening I discover with you, our harvest of determined synthesis, will you be brave in the face of the irony?

The mythology of us washes up on the shores at dusk, wave after wave, dim in the glow of lanterns. Late arrivals to casual parties dictate the sounds of distance, some way off behind where I have no interest to look.

As if to turn my gaze away from the waters, our waters, will erase every piece of mystery that I collected to assemble you out of.

Some way.

Where will this path recall unto itself the benign incorrectness? Overgrown with green, off to the side. Saved for a later time when they will delegate to the distraught hovering laws that insist on reinstating authority based on the dialogues of sour opals.

Buried in dark sand, a glamorous pyre, praying for reduction. Insist, on this,

So as to calculate the cost of diamonds sealed in their shrine of mist, here on this day of uncategorized ceremony.

 Umbral in my wickedness, I beckon you, gift unto me a harpsichord for the outcast.

To them all this wildness is just a song for another heart’s murmur to fall against.

Like a black wall reaching out from the chalice of its soul to stabilize the blind.

Without looking, those that are happily lost in this blizzard will remember everything that they have planted.