Praying: Life Is But a Dream

Casted as a dismal veil upon my psyche,

An uninvited knowledge that taunts and haunts

Gathers up my heart to my throat, sticking sickly
The fear of a would-be truth

That could not know itself to be afraid

In a word conjures darkness

A hole – atheistic, nihilistic, thee apocalypse

All meaning vanishes, leaks out against the edge of my life

In my mind, blue chairs—velvet cream marble islands

Backed against the moment of my death

Gloms upon, does not strike a call to action

Damned in the flashing of no more

That even if to last in word and memory, colorless

For others to carry on and places contained, I would not know

How could I but caress, discomforted by what shall not be savored  

The verse penned by days and hands gone by, dining no more on yesteryears wines

Makes no wonder in a world of flesh and life's long climb,

This urge to penned down marked meaning, to fence off this stark tune of lament

This striking horror that keeps us from rest, has us extending verse in time

It is to keep at bay, to nullify, to render otherwise, for what is life but a wasted crime

And to take with a stroke the hope of a more, down into the most forgotten,

So down it lacks direction or dimension, and yet in this valley before the fall, is there not hope?

A call in this stillness, a moore in this fall, towards/entwined, in love’s power we seek affirmation 

As if her lips where a promise, her a locket, a cup of wine, a well that pours out thy other-life,

Energic spills, time bends and blends places doubled – a mile in an eye's shot, a thought emotes and travels

To the world's mystery that tells of something of

Beyond beyond’s beyond can be taken
Puddles of memory whirl effervescent contemplations

Of the bodies death forming communities once whole,

A myriad of voices that whispered instinct 

Transform, moving on into other psychic manifestations,
Blue tuned levels of psychic personification,
And as such, we are all one in this continuum of everlasting love's communion

This orgasmic being that we call universe, known also

As all that is… and nevermore…

freewriting by A. Aguero, 11th Dec. 41.