WHERE THE JADE TREE SINGS
NEAR THE TEMPLE ON HIGH
WHERE
THE JADE TREE SINGS
AND THE FLOWERING
QUETZAL SPREADS ITS ROOTS
STANDS
A GRAVEYARD OF TOBACCO STAINED WHISPERS
AND
RUPTURED DREAMS
WHERE MORIBUND CLOCKS
DECOMPOSE
AS
ECSTATIC EPIPHANIES
DANCE
ABOVE
VISIONS OF DAWN
TO
THE TANGO OF YEARS
WHOSE
LUMINOUS CHORDS
RESOUND
THROUGH OBSIDIAN MIRRORS
THAT
OBSCURE
NOT
REFLECT
THE
THEN
THAT
IS NOW
WHEN
THE MOVEMENT STOPS
TIME
BECOMES SPACE
ROCKS
AND CRYSTALS SPEAK THE LANGUAGE OF ART
AND
LIFE UNFOLDS
UNDER
A SHADOW OF STRANGLED ECLIPSES
AND
MUMMIFIED STARS
BENEATH
THE DEEPEST UMBRA
CAST
BY DEATH'S UNCHARTERED GEOMETRY
LIES
THE WOMB
WHERE
MAGIC IS BORN
AND
THE WINDS SILVER BONES
EMERGE
TO
CARRY THE RINGING VIBRATIONS
THAT
ANNOUNCE
TO
THE GALAXY'S END
A
NEW GENESIS
OF
COSMIC ILLUSIONS