Monday, February 27, 2012

.orion times three.

 .dreams cut loose may be hazardous to homework.

.can you see my mirror in your mirror?
eight lines separate the world.
kaleidoscope shards make a wormhole for hearts that know no better than to tumble into and out of place, thrown from souls into space, with no purpose but shapes to be changed forever.
.can your burn my flame in your fire?
nothing's ever complete when you desire. perspective is caught in the wink of an eye, from amongst sparks rising from the pyre, creating patterns, leaping higher and higher, with no purpose but to be entire in a never-ending sky.
wink of an eye, and then it is lost.
.can you be a map and not a maze?
this is but just another phase, with no purpose but to disengage the staticity if the earth stops moving. but what if the earth stood still and the lines curled round? and a little boy's xylophone was the only sound, all dreams would learn to stand their ground, and fling away the barriers. eight lines tumbling into and out of place until they're maps, and not a maze, and they throw back the shards till they're spinning inwards again, and they slow down, and tilt back once, twice...and tip over into the other side.