loving the ice queen...

be a paraselenic homage

to her own stark illumination...

call her any name

in your memory that hurts

and she is exactly that lover

any night of crystalline dread

calling forth your desire...

*

oh the consciousness of mankind

is superceding his creations

they stand transparently

in their own forms

while the consciousness of mankind

slowly becomes aware of its own element

of process and the forms morph

before his own empirical eyes

into their living instant of being--

the process--for lack of a fit word--ongoing

*

Rimbaud tried it and got only so far

because his love was a wounded twisted thing--

not sure which another he was--

*

skein of space and time--

preserve our acts in the weave of thought

and effort harmonious with that design--

as other knots of imperfection fall away...

*

how many skins shed in this awareness

of beauty beyond all coveting--

the essence manifest in the sensual form

that completes the ritual

of self joining self--and lit on this earth

by the balance of sun and moon--

the interlocking embrace of lover and beloved--

the skins of previous identities falling away

as our bloom rises to the moon

where surveying the lit field as we rise...

all before now back into the perpetual element

dust to dust--lust to love--

and nothing but the transparency

of this instant--this always--

Content (c) 2008-2010 Philip Milito.