kasmel

Indeterminate Substantial Precious Love, yet Transparent Such that light may pass through So Obscured by that which may lay behind Love, yet So easy to lose sight Visible only if you look Love, yet Is key Is integral Love, yet Over time With intent Grows The brighter upon its facets your gaze may shine The darker the background The more strain to see The dimmer the light upon it shone The dimmer for all it shines Love, yet When Out of sight Out of heart When Out of light Into dark Not a prism But a mirror Showing back to you that which you let it see Love, yet Can be broken only by to whom it's gifted Love, yet Can be lost only when already forgotten

Sharing fear and torment and laziness rugged vie Recyclable scape goats hunger for a sparkling laundered lie For our self deterministic failures roundly keen to share their wastrels bounty Asunder riven awry driven divided and deterred Of relatedness or autonomy no competence assured A stable genius landscape a picture of lament A soiree to usher leeward a peerless foul dement

Lodged in our thoughts where but shadows bloom, the endless awaits for a summer noon While an audacious mean to this meager mode though doleful mein bear wistful road Accomplished by stars sits wrent by cloud bereft in morass of dawn For a yawning wake in noontide an aside to reverent place But torn the days thither our heel whilst dapple the crease in space

In solitude and silence our consciousness creaks bearing the weight of the waiting. A weight on our psyche to breathe a breath unrestrained. A breath free from judgment, from vigilance, vice, and vicissitude. There is borne a breadth of constituency, debt or sustainment of a pledge to ourselves to be beholden to each other. But not of those who can claim the pledge of patronage to a peculiar pastiche whose era has but a century passed. Nothing new under the sun or above the ground, but plenty new between half and a baker's for all but what's buried can be as easily invisible. They wade among us these familiar foes of reason and of delight of declaiming reason as unreasonable and facts as factious. Towing their dark and putrid wake they slumber. Minds as closed as eyes of their victims. Ever leaning just off the edge of fidelity to their own accounting as all accounts swell into tsunamis they watch in the rear view.