The burning tree demanding forth:
Skin the kings
As the spiral of roaches
Awaken the teeth of steel
Thy Holy Child
My kin together
Festive consummation
Of space and time
Joyous is thy event
One spark commences
The ascension and transfiguration
Of one pure soul that
Seeks in the mind
To open the eye
And see all of the sides of the moon
Darkness enlightened
Perfect is the moment
Worries set at sail
Nothing to matter when dissolved
And like Alice though the looking glass
A new place anew to us forth
As blessed with knowledge
Is bestowed upon the wake
Of a novel sense
About the Creator
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More stories from Bernard Aquilina and writers in Poets and other communities.
Personal Space
For some reason, it seems to be unpopular to have the opinion of wanting personal space. I do very much miss the days when it was illegal to come within 6 feet of anyone else and I would like the earth to go back to that because what the hell is everyone on nowadays?
By Annie Kapura day ago in Psyche
Comments (1)
This feels like you swallowed a fantasy dictionary and tried to burp out enlightenment. “Skin the kings,” “holy child,” “ascension,” “all sides of the moon” it’s like you’re auditioning to be the final boss of a philosophy-themed video game. Maximum cosmic drama, zero concrete meaning. It reads less like divine revelation and more like someone desperately trying to sound profound while aggressively refusing to say anything clear. Don't quit your job, pal!