Imagination, darkness, silence, consciousness,
they are the numinous,
If time is running down here
we should know,
how mystery
treats the mysterious
and where all the thoughts go,
Freedom from nothing and everything,
the first ceiling in the night's sky,
the beauty of eye
to object,
of both gold and black
to be facing,
that girl that fire
is rumored to be tracing,
And the city lights go out,
while time burns Aquarian,
history and futures leap
over boundaries of stone,
that saddle off in the night
riding out all alone,
Images of word-less books
are deserts,
as a blind river cannot find its sea,
of only a time for living,
the infinite the finite come to be.
