As wreaths gleam
‘Round the waist of him,
The Dreaded and Sublime King.
What joy it is to peer
Into eyes of coal
Of soulful tale
In divine lore,
In truthful hope.
What boon it is to sing
The sagas of the warriors’ spleen
Wrought into halls of conquest
By iron art,
By lead and fire.
As Darkness sways her regal skirt
to the dead’s drumming heartbeats,
I sit still entranced in silence until Being is
and all surroundings disappear.
Sea foam bubbles and kisses itself away in my ears –
the last remnants of the multitude storm
have no sway over the rock of protean lore.
The weathervane slightly oscillates
by the systole and diastole of breath,
reconciling lover and beloved
with the primal scent of lively opiates
in sightless search.
And to commensurate the sweetness
of honeydew, roses, and rosemary blends,
all dreams entorched wed the shadows
in the tireless dance of visceral cantus
and hedgehog air.
For this second coming, I call you to immerse yourself in this meditation video for you to find yourself and your joy in this life.
As always, it is my wish that with every breath you may find a way to be eased off distress.
Umbra: Logos! Come and dance with us.
Logos: I am fine, thank you.
Core: Oh, come on! I’ll teach you some moves.
Logos: Umbra, is she staying long?
Umbra: Core is part of our family. She’ll stay forever with us.
Umbra: What’s wrong? You need Core for a balanced forefront. The army needs you both.
Logos: I know… but she’s so *looks at Core who in turn looks at him glistening with joy* moist… and sweet.
Core: *bursts into laughter* I know, right! Everything that you are not. We’ll make such a great team.
Logos: *grits his teeth as he glares at Umbra* So, Core… uhm… what are those moves you wanted to teach me?
Umbra: *giggles and pats Logos’ shoulder* Good general, good general.