Monday, July 20, 2015
Windows, stained or otherwise,
never quite cut it for me.
For when the brilliant constellations;
star fires of far away, alight...
the synaptic, nebulous neurons,
burning bright...come into focus,
and my telescopic ponderous peering
glimpses the secrets of heaven.
Its funny to think that the skies above,
beyond comprehension, expedition...
pale in comparison to the music;
the unobserved orchestration...
the unrivaled resplendence...
of the many splendored universe,
aglow in my arms.
By pattern recognition: intelligence,
and the 5th force: illuminating love;
your soul soft light beams upon me.
In the rays of your symmetry, gentility,
I am made safe...
sounded down, wound around,
the careful configurations of color,
in your eyes.