‘This’ is the first
Word of the
Rest of my
Life.
‘No,’ that is the
First word of the
Rest of my
Life.
Every word
Not leading
To the next.
None getting
Me any
closer to
Resolution.
Category: writing
The Demiurge
Taking up
Clay
was the
greatest
sin
to Gnostics
Creation Isn’t a
celebration
of life,
it’s a cage.
a prison
for the
Celestial
spark
Trapped in
dull, earthen
vessels
divine sparks,
Of the Unity,
Disunified.
Separated.
Imperfected.
Not by
act but
through the
medium.
The urge
to create
is not a
gift, but a
curse.
Not a calling,
but a
temptation.
STAR**** **OOP**S: A Surreal Space Poetry Project – Page 35
Do you know?
Not a blessed
thing
cool off
shake out
save power
See you if
I see you
Nobody saw
I know
Fog bank
Fog rolls in
rolls out.
An ethereal tide
that brings old
memories and dreams.
Images of what was
and what will be.
I lose myself
in the lullaby
of motion.
Today is forgotten
as I am caught
up in yesterday.
Tomorrow
slips away,
and time edges on
heedless of me.