the place of chaos in the Way
death feeds all that grows
the light let in today, from fire in the distance. changing what i see. the shades of the world around me.
the ombre of i's, where my eyes cast brightly. shade won't show without a solid surface to be seen on.
material learning to know what it is, what it is to be. and what it is to become.
all the magic of life in a single seed. only part of a part of a world - i want to be where the star people are.
uncurtained bodies beyond the veil, euphoric, photic, and creative energies, unafraid to be uncontained.
my world burns because i am a wildfire, devouring the wastes of winter for a spring bloom.
although the flowers grow from dirt and ashes, they are still loved for their beauty, coming from remnants of what was before, from literal memories.
like the number thirteen, to be again.
as it is also, the precision marks of incineration clear the dead and rotten, to strengthen what yet lives, tempered by the heat.
death feeds all that grows. it is the order of chaos in the Way that allows anything to be possible.
About the Creator
⸘jason alan‽
:::WARNING:::
i am only responsible for what i say,
not for what you understand.
you may learn to be charmed by my [secret‽] discontent,
or you may not.
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Comments (2)
Amazing!
Beautiful an descriptive poem! Reflected a sense of desire and belonging.