For our Tale is not Linguistically Interpretable

How to keep silence, when every moment
Is as holy as a word dreamt upon the page?
At the zenith of poetry where

Metaphysics becomes a living necessity –
There, I shall dwell for a few weeks
Between the scavenging of hope

And the arms of my loving wife
Anguish was a revolution
How to keep the silence loose

When every moment bursts forth
In the beauty of the King of Kings
The place where aspiration travels

Off-shore, to alphabetic neutrality
A transparency of how ancient language
Leaves its mark on the spirit’s page

Sanskrit melding into mandarin
With an undertone of rolling Gaelic.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Paradise-404652006

Prologue

Time for me has never gotten comfortable
Once upon a time, there was me
Not I, but a coexisting us
Many selves splintered
Unable to resume existing
As a significant whole
Like a prologue of all known things
These of the self were finite
Mortal, braided with the stars
Mirrored, like wandering hands
That renounced the light
A long time ago, time was only a context
The symbols of neglected bruises
Reminders of ancient Sanskrit terms
Gray cathedrals of spirit-space
That were not witnessed, before the age
Of a thousand eyes, before consciousness
Could be downloaded and uploaded
Time was a little girl who
Announced her arrival each moment
With a big pillow in her hands for sleeping beauty
Down from the sorcerer’s tree
I swallowed the fruit once again
A blind witness to my blind hunger
Leave the wisdom here said the bird
In the seed, throw the seed into the river.