🚀 go-pugleaf

What the day brought in. What the thunder said. But what if it was not
yours to recover. There was a black flower around her head, a black
flower and a blanket of stars. In her right hand Venus held
immortality, and with her left to keep in the balance she repeatedly
tapped humanity for exertion of its creative infinity toward continuity
with the Source.

The night knew more than the sun. The night was wisdom reaching the
earth, veiled and delicate. The night was an abyss full of stars. An
abyss that was silent and enchanting and open. An abyss that was but
one step removed from the creative; an abyss that knew the creative but
was not the creative and with her ionized longing nurtured the mini-
orlds. He made friends with Sirius and Arcturis. He plucked the
Northern Star from the sky and impaled it on back of her neck. He spoke
to Algol. A hollow tube � a dried sugar cane � a coiled trumpet
inserted into the mind breathing death. His 28 Scorpio Sun staring
directly into the face of the scar-faced old warrior, the agony of
millions flashing inside, chanting the sound of the universe being
born. Congested acidic skin burst. Dark matter splattered. Vibrations
of ohm resonated and found eye of God.

The question was what to trust, and the easy answer was the whole
thing. He saw the purpose for the whole thing. He knew how it parsed
together. There was a transmission of sensibilities. She made an
excellent oracle and told him what he otherwise would not have known.
These sensibilities were not given as primers of afterlife, as had been
told. They were part of divine blueprint of how life is meant to be
experienced.

Erotic striving was the color of aurora borealis, and the traveler
navigated by her currents. The traveler went north, far north, where
trees disappeared. She had become harsh and abrasive in order to keep
alive. She had become snow and arctic polarities. The communication was
blocked and yet the call was clear from beyond the Abyss. The ineffable
was to be untied with man�s wits guided by man�s desire.

She had lost sight of aurora borealis once, and was destroyed. They all
lived in multiple worlds, and the Abyss fell between them. They played
different sides of the Abyss. The tundra stretched far and wide. And at
the crown of the earth where he wished to lay his hand the age-old
puzzle beckoned.

 I dream of rain
 I dream of gardens in the desert sand
 I wake in pain
 I dream of love as time runs through my hand

 I dream of fire
 These dreams are tied to a horse that will never tire
 And in the flames
 Her shadows play in the shape of a man's desire

 This desert rose
 Each of her veils, a secret promise
 This desert flower
 No sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this

 And as she turns
 This way she moves in the logic of all my dreams
 This fire burns
 I realize that nothing's as it seems

 I dream of rain
 I dream of gardens in the desert sand
 I wake in pain
 I dream of love as time runs through my hand

 I dream of rain
 I lift my gaze to empty skies above
 I close my eyes, this rare perfume
 Is the sweet intoxication of her love

 Sweet desert rose
 Each of her veils, a secret promise
 This desert flower
 No sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this

 Sweet desert rose
 This memory of Eden haunts us all
 This desert flower, this rare perfume
 Is the sweet intoxication of the fall

 - Sting

 http://www.geocities.com/drr0cket


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