Enlightenment & the Orange Gate
Love has come to an end
so many times
its end implies genesis
is signed by lights in cold skies
that point not to locus nor power
but to points themselves
on a line recurring
recurring
as if to say:
learn more to forget more.
A caucus of lights
a clattering of sentience
a softened pearl necklace
around the throat of oblivion.
Days break open
like ampoules of spring rain
in the fold of green winter hills
in the yellow scent
of a temporal promise
and for a moment
the ordinary is glowing.
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