Let me be carried away
Let my self give in to a vivid hieroglyphic dream
Figures dancing and giving praise to life and its seed
(is all that you need)
And the colors are meaning
Theyre ready to go
Fueling the poets engines
Contributing to a flow
Of ma**mind directioning
Towards the infinite point
The chanting grows louder, out of innumerable mouths
Visual sound spinning us away
Towards the epicentre positioned in eternity
A spheric conclusion were we would find
We had always been reflections of our future mind
As if unfolding from outside the space-time continuum she came
Consisting of ritualistic patterns of love and sufferin
And she held absurd meaning
And urged us to go
So we poets fueled our engines
Evoking syntactical flow
On which we sped forward
As she led the way
Outside the parameters our imagination had yet conceived
Visual sound spinning us away
Towards the epicentre positioned in eternity
A spheric conclusion were we would find
We had always been reflections of our future mind
As if unfolding from outside the space-time continuum she came
Consisting of ritualistic patterns of love and sufferin
And spoke :
This is the garden where everything exists at once
Every idea that ever could be, has its place here, its own reverie
History is an organism that pulls its beginning towards its end
To complete the cycle, to start again
Your race is near completion, all you have to do is
Find your essence in my garden and plant the seed anew
Like a madman I began running
Through topologies so beautiful and absurd
That with every exotic apperation I thought my mind would surely burst
A tantric dance
Of soft coloured feminine forms
Pools of obscene blackness
Under surface demons cum
Alien symbolon rising
Out of gaping holes
Conciousness in one hand, sanity in the other, I finally could spot
A cross-legged figure sitting beside a stream of thought
A sadhu, long hair hanging in the river, absorbing its wisdom as food
Trembeling I walk towards this familiar place in uhr-mothers magnificent womb
And fulfill karma, a new beginning of time
All this time I thought to be prisoner of post human grace
While in reality I was the vital epilogue of my human race
I am my own beginning, my own end We are our own beginning, our own end
Into a myriad fertile tears I shall be spend (transcend)
There is crystalized omniscience in the end