Author: LabyrinthFlux

–In the middle of a restless night, the moonlight crashing; on, through, dissipating in – the window’s pane, the glass, into the moments of the past.   The wrestling of the body  the mind writhing in attempts to extricate and mount all memories remaining of moments exposed ———-now displaced.   The etchings, now time worn vaguely recollect life, some times a lifetime, some times simply brief breaths held so long nothing remained but laughter.   In the night’s breeze, in its debris what remains tumbles about, reminding etchings of origins and whispering of a possibility that has long been spent.

–I am     not       God     The breath inside of me is closer   than I could ever be to grace-   it is closer to the essence of creation   than what I perceive myself to be                                                   daily     The wind dances across the world   an act of worship and of life   as I sit and watch and worry   about the too many things, everything,                                                   the quotidian     A misunderstanding of my understanding   of God, the being I am not, […]

-…as a yellow-tinted sliver streaks across the fallen day shedding ashes of light on the edge of dimensions the layers ripple, a wave of consciousness breaking apart – as celestial bodies drawn to a common rock splinter into jagged fragments that never reconcile, yet remain stranded in the solitude of proximity, the weight of each an argument toward existence shaped around distinct edges and position- so consciousness agrees, while we argue vehemently the subtleties of edges, the difference between you & me