Exiles Of The Alchemy

 

Once you know, having seen
over long history, your heart
floats up to the good after
every descent and your eyes
are with every deed, gentle
you may release discoveries
foster the peace
bring lost light
to this dark place.
Not perfect but fertile
for the alchemy

In mist, lost, freedom arrives
so heavy at first, so alone
in noisy mundanity
we must go in, hermetic
to rediscover the luminous code
of gestation as this patina that was given
from an algorithm of conformity
shines only in artificial light
closed in loops of self-extinguishing fire
it’s ways combustible and lost

the origin though was never given
is the base camp in these mountains
above misty valleys
below peaks lost in clouds.
Scrambling for utensils
we forget our nocturnal sight
the terma treasure embracing
our return in every view

I am a wanderer through cities
of social media friends
the trees show me another land
the sky, that maternal gift
all buildings and customs are
born from evaporative, a while only.
Every day a different place appears
even boredom cannot deny it

when they hurt, certainty shimmers unsolid
like houses in desert heat
my pain has opened the cage
occasionally is true meeting, mostly though
proximity cannot speak it’s heart
transparency is caught in
a politics of glimpses, of acceptable
openings, careful enclosures
intimacies of nearness only
I listen to the unlayered voice
see the naked gesture
drawn to the inflections of full bodied speech
common among the furred and feathered
drawn to the heartfulness of the dwindling Kaumātua
to the faces of Curtis’ Indians
to the ephemeral ones waiting in a room

So I stretch my arms out
like a crucifix, give love where I can
mostly to the ones of IS
to animals, to plants, to light
that lives the world awake
to those I cannot see
to myriads in other places,
to the kind, the sick, the broken
to the epistemic shaken
to exiles of the alchemy

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