Violent sunset bursts leaving a hole in my head - Ye who enter this cloudless domain, in sharp contrast to the milky envelope that cradled me, shield thine eyes from its penetrating stare - No longer a benign star among us; effulgent gulf of irradiating albedo, climbs toward the western shore.
Death on my heels as always, advancing precariously in borderless regions. Unable to tear me asunder, I challenge the presence of unborn thieves.
Run away, back to gods who never were. With customary imbalance, ritualizing your deepest concerns. ‘Death’ has been your watchword to call on in times of ataraxia.
Out of the blinding light there is no shadow to tempt you. No subtleties or vague answers. All dissipated in a single idea: that you’ll never embrace your true heart …
From ‘Return Trip’ (a work in progress)