Fingers of the Unspeakable

Morpheus's Vapors

 

 

As the wind descended

from the tree top feathers

its fierceness,

slicing through my inner stillness

Awakening murmurings

deep inside me.

Echoes of a past life wildness

I had forgotten

Somewhere

after my expulsion from the womb

and those first neural connections

coalescing mimicked patterns

of word sounds

I found myself

called into a strange

new denseness…

What dark magician had

conjured up this spell

which pulled me into

       this world of frozen forms

which could only move.

They so lacked

     the vaporous solidity

of soul forms

whose manifestation

was not in structure but

lived in the dance

of their morphing.

Living condensation

and sublimation manifestation

and absence worlds

in transition

flowing through each other.

Those are the words

being spoken

with segments

from morphabetic letters

which never repeat

and can never

be written

but only spoken

in a morphing dance

                              dancing.

 Memories reminding

that I

like a message in a sealed bottle

thrown carelessly

into a dry sea

am now having to

learn how to dance

my bottle

and tap out my message

on the stones scattered

on the endless

                  empty dryness.

Without eyes to sea

or ears to here

I sit wondering

if there Is anyOne

listening

to the

     rhythms being spoken…