I. (…Once upon a neutron star,
We ventured near,
While staying far…)

This blind search for knowledge, imparted by death;
Away we go on this alchemical quest!
For the hyperbolic-light-box.

This paper-mache of mind-knots,
Constructs a trail I once thought lost;
It spans a surface that God forgot
While searching for the Primus thought:

“Cognition Aboriginal”

So we stepped out there, half prepared
(A wit short of air and a little bit scared),
And set within inside of some knowing shared,
That the end is what we seek.

Then we heard, pray tell, of fountains,
Of the youth within the mountain;
Of a tangible infinity,
Where the numbers cease from counting.

Where laughter is a liquid
In a storm of sunshine-rain.
Where youth sit and watch forever
Projected through Light’s window pane;

They look in turn to contemplate
The difference within the same,
And from time of times one hears their song
To take heed of what they say:

“This sublime, eternal, pleasure
Is what we traded for your name.

For when we called in earnest
This set of letter owned by you,
Creation turned in worship
Of this hyper-spatial brew.

For when the sound of this word is heard,
It iterates a temporal hemisphere
That folds itself to hatch a bird
From an n-dimensional space-mirror.

Then resonance reflects to measure
The condensation that thus was made.”

II. As the whispers pry,
And the decades fly,
Like some archetypal, ancient ghost;
One wonders why
This silent cry
Is inaudible to most.

But a spacial stitch may still exist,
To serve as some reminder;
That there are specter shells existing in
Some sort of spice-time, peppercorn grinder.

…But to whisper soft,
To entice the ear,
Is the pleasure most
Which I hold dear…

Let slip desire born all too clear
That feeds the legends spawned of myth,
When shed a tear turned vortex weir,
Seek to prolong the time they spent with.

So we explore within trans-consciousness
To speak the landscape mind,
In hopes of self-made forgetfulness
To will lead us when we’re blind.

For the unidentified flying portal,
That beckons forth the eschaton,
We will erase the place where nary a mortal
Set sight the face of the one true Photon.

III. As students of the Earth,
And natives of the stars,
Here we came to know the truth
Of what we really are.

From the point of all places,
Where existence splits apex,
And The-All-Mine-God-Mind,
Shines forth an alchemical quasar.

(But this stone does not glitter,
Not even a little,
As it tastes a bit bitter,
Like a cosmic-sun-skittle)

Now vibrations condense into words that are spoken
As the mystic in transit finds thoughts that are broken,
And picks up the fragments of Indentity’s notion,
To forge out the sound of this manifold token.

I’ve come to know before you did
Exactly what you’ll say;
A multi-lingual, sub-space bridge
To give us passage over way.

…Resonating occurrence of the now echo…


Take a sneak-a-peak to collapse the barriers,
Then slip through the cracks and extract the exterior;
Watch the laws dissolve and fall away,
Open up the halls where all in small,
The topo-morphic elves do play.

…Resonating occurrence of the now echo…

Then Schrödinger's Wave
Goes from brick to clay,
And up pops a waffle,
And try as we may,
We can’t understand
When we hear eternity say…

…Let go…

…Let go of my ego waffle…