how do we create any soluble form with minds that are tangentially colliding? is it like stars that rise with temperatures and shiver light in the openness? we could speculate for days how there is every wrong, divine to the heat of pleasure. yet, in the silent silhouette of the night moon, all birth becomes exposed. are we naked yet? blanketed along the dark edges, this holiness is pleasant. bring me home sacred floral scents so i can roam in the heavenly fantasy that i am made of god stone. yet peeking through the shadow bushes, crackled soil upon heated metal, the roots have teeth and grow deep. i am no one for such laws, yet these ruins are crystalline structures in the heart of a Buddha sun. the confusion is fancy, but the desire for correction is more gorgeous than the waiting rivers of love.
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