Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Because the sky is Grey, I see you more clearly.
I smell your stagnancy when you are moving.
Don't pretend you are not red with regret.
For the things you've forgotten have become brine.
When my eyes spot that trick, you will sigh in relief.
Relief that you have been seen, found out.
No more secrets. I know them all.
The blackness all around us....
The beauties cannot be, nor can the uglies.
It is nothing and everything.
Existence, non-existence ... neither can be sought.
Blackness is perfect and imperfect both.
Blackness is the brightest bright there is not.