Walking up a hill and back down

The loft insensible,              
Broad sky.
Flowing out and through—
My pond brain.
Mercenary of crystal,
Hesitant sleep in the bosom.
Ozonated dream on the eaves.
                           Warrior of bliss.
.
                      Full imperceptible,
I discover myself—
                       In cloudless static,
In the biting cold.
Frenzy of elaboration,          
Frost that bathes my pineal.
        A graze, a radiant knife:
Dark tangerine skyslice.         
.
                          Step after step.
Slope upon slope.
Ache under ache,                            
I unembroil myself.
I unencumber something.
I unelongate the symbols.            
.
It snows not, it shines not;               
Everything is a vain transparency.
 And yet, I feel in the loft insensible
The stirring unmistakable,
Of what I do not know.

Written by
@d-pend
11/13/17