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Image for the poem Of the Existential Maya  (which misconstrues Holy Dark Matter Silence as Deathly Greys, but Is There a Death at all?)

Of the Existential Maya  (which misconstrues Holy Dark Matter Silence as Deathly Greys, but Is There a Death at all?)

 

 
 
 
darkened tarred roads wink in  
wet sticky mirroring amber pillars  
…october’s monsoonal  twilights’  
a stirring chaos- fusing fabric ..of  
 
(bodhi~ in the haunting oddities)  
 
 
of the long ringing temples bells  
in  hammering clarities  of a sonorous resonance…  
with an unclassifiable racing~tranquilly simultaneity    
....of a heart-drumming  
in a holy worshipping  
fervour, a dancing  
trance  
 
 
eaten sudden to a null  
 
 
yet.. seemingly  
a delicate inching in something of nothingness  
slowly fading into the digging howls of a silence  
.  
.  
.  
.  
 
[there’s a fragrant floral blooming sanctity gardens  
of conspicuous Parijatham- their pearling jasmines…  
..its spirited firing flame in momentary upright holds  
are  the sparking peduncles fallen forever  
in devouted inversion  
 
their fantaish outlandishness  
hold spotless ballerina frills  
in freefalling immersion  
.  
.  
 
the early mooted holy smoke  
of neems & myrobalans, clouds  
angelic in moving congregations...  
 
'  
....nostalgic  
of a dimming drizzly yellow sunshine’s  
swarming hazy glassiness wingmen canopies , the  
shallowly dragonflying see-through traffic  
in micro painted pterostigmatous signalling  
embed-chip presence in no-heady collisions  
of the steady hovering templelands..  
    
...hatched out naivete nymphs  
of a wet clayey wisen earthen womb  
in its rising up helical placental threads-  
    the hormonal petrichoric  
atmospheric  
.  
.  
 
an inexplicable crisis sets in, a  
(r/p)ain of labour- screams..to stream down  
silverine strings,  a basal tangere linger  
in smoking red firm terracotta  moulds  
sashaying the burlesque bleeding streets  
in a flaming Scoville high cries …  
.  
 
their dusky pitching melancholic fire...  
piques the just returned to be nestled  
cuckooing souls of the dark…the croaking  
amphibial clocking amplifications … densely  
confluences  
into the gushing estuary of a deathly mirage...  
in hungering quagmires  
of a rotten cambial circumferential  
logging walls,  unto the abyss…  
.  
.  
 
...in the horrid hauntingly calling twilights  
and the biggeningly blotting pitch black inks...  
of mysteriuosly sucking in vacuum nights]  
 
.  
.  
 
 
lost and lost to the deep of an unreturning  
are the souls of solid sanctifying innocence  
in an untraceable camphoraceous sublimities    
 
to the transcendence, of a silence  
in veils of fatally screaming elegies  
 
the cosmic souling energy  
neither in a push or pull  
of loss or gain-
an absolute  
 
salience of an everpresent  
Holy Hueless Nothingness,  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Written by summultima (uma)
Published
Author's Note
Rob. My Love Eternal.Thanks Infinite for being there here, ever. You know xx

To all those in grief...of the Unreturning, The Loss ....
Death is a Myth...when Soul's Eternity in The Holy Silence is felt..
Love is All the Need, the faith & Utmost Truth.
Inspired by recent events & life, love.

Pic: Web. Nadia Maria Photography
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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