a thoughtless repose?
the mind reels at mystery. sour fixtures from a glimpse into light. the beings here seem transfixed, as by what means, I know not. if smoke were in the air now, the shadows would be their only role, and the beings of darkness sitting there would be visible. gargoyle grimacing in a wicked state of bliss. the knotted stroke, somewhere inside the beating heart, and robed mention of earnest knowns. the stroke of luck that may condemn with the possession of repetition, thinking the cycle repeats, but chaos marks the cards with a unique brand of spirit. the gremlins play the same game that they have ever started first performing, defying the nature of structure, and representing havoc in the depths of a well-lit room. the clocks begin to wind down into a slowing gyration, but does that mean that time is like this as well? the crawling understanding of feeling undermined by the ego of your friendly allies, and taking the time to make that movement deeper into your skin. the motion turns it on, and the speed makes the trip that much harder to bear.
Posted by flux-you-in-the-teeth on December 3rd, 2007 in a for Anagogy..., critical concepts. You can leave a response or trackback from your own site.