I am older
No longer strangled by
blinded naivete
with a smudge
of silly
embracing the white
invasion
in every crevice
of my body
I am a glacier
receding into
the extinction of Me
Now that I am closer
to the fervent void
I will savor
this child free air
a crone and a mystery
to thee

Here all the choice that lay beforith

To eat thereof the tree of life an **** it as thy bask fatted in the glory of a newborn star

Or to abstain there frometh an look inside eternal black thusly with knowledge that your stomach's redeeming feast is but a headturn away

Poetry starts in the womb.

Every cell division is a vibration of life.

And, every vibration is a poetry of  life.

In sleep,  everyone is a saint.

We live between life and death.