Riddled language

 
 
.
He sings to me in riddles
 
Riddles of the human condition
 
From depths of darksome chambers of the heart
 
Where only truth is found
Each has their own
None is the same
But absolute in its own way.  
 
Stepping deeper into his base note sound
Carried by a voice of tones very low
Sung soft, so slow
Luring me into his deaming
It's spiralling round to take me down
 
Weaving words of wonder
words of sorrow
words I do not understand.  
 
Pulled in by music, peculiar
and riddles I do not try to undo
Mystified by occultish allure
A dream that makes no sense,  
leaving me perplexed.  
Amused.
The ability to leave me this confused.  
 
In this I find comfort:  
His language-not locked in logic.  
His tongue-derailed, detached from
Indoctrinated dialogue.
 
He is speaking something sacred
through singing to tune into the  
singular receptive part of me...
 
That knows the unknown...  
 
Yet knows nothing
.
 
 
 
- A tribute to Brandon Perry -