Resurrection
Using thousands of languages to unfasten corsets of your heart,
Whence comes the remedy in sedation, an appeasement in escaping
entangled illusions, and realities,
We hear with ears, but listen - with our hearts - the primordial emotions,
The offerings to the time’s womb, as to a god of unforgiving disguise
That sadistically torments our desires by ferrying them over, far and beyond,
The poetic psalms sang to the genius of loving and caring, the daemons
Who, surrounded by our gullible passions, abuse, now and heretofore,
Every feeling, and every sensation we may feel when the heart is released
into the domain of love.
I want to enact tactility of mist to awake the shadows of mysteries, and thence the memories
Of the time that deluded the reminiscence of the words that aroused your brilliance,
Your portal to the fragrant centre of the mother-Sun, where everything is born,
And where everything dies with the same intensity, where words are leaping
Off the shore into the flames of radioactive blizzard-rivers, and blinding light,
Where noise is too noisy, where light is too brightly-lit, and where you only see
Atomic-me, dissected, anatomised, particularised so that you can pick every,
and each
Cell that would suit the love you would like to feel, and me (?) – to exist as you please!
And please you do (!) in the chanting, and in the prayers, in the chorus poised
To envelop you, strong and delicious, as an approaching voice, a whisper
Of choice to engrave love itself into all carcasses of each version
Of us, with an intention to resurrect and make alive, and loving, again.
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