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Spirit descends
Taking shape
From
Nirvanic infinitude
And is carnally crystallized
In an incarnadine
Shrine of flesh,
Bone and marrow.

Let the anima of wisdom
Hear the unuttered reverberations
That ripple as a shockwave
Through this
Vast, multidimensional
Cosmos
And utter
The esoteric secrets of existence.

A verisimilitude of life
Loometh in the irides
Of the
Gasconading celestial
And we
Must wax lowly
To
Wax lofty.

Trust that something
Interstellar, intergalactic, macrocosmic, multiversal;
Fatidic, fathoms all
With
Omnibenevolence.
Ye, this
Visage of Creation keeps vigil
In the corporeal pulse of plight.

Fulgurant perdition is for
But an
Ephemeral exhalation, Elysium is for eternity;
(Therefore)
Gaze heavensward
Knowing the Holy Dove
Shall always
Rise and fall.

Promises await:
A deific covenant
Etched in the
Slabs of our hearts,
(I Hear)
The Requiem of Lovelit Life resolved
In the
Key of the Archean.

Spirit rises,
Dismantling form
And intertwines infinitely
All that is, was, and will be;
Circular & cycling
Forevermore
The Cosmo-Plexus of Empyreal Love
Sees all.

(Se' lah)
“Just as the Empyrean Aethers art infinite and beyond, so our Fulgent Dreamscape. The Vestibule, The Tabernacle of the Soul, is without height, breadth, width, or depth. 'Tis an immeasurable, incorporeal expanse; 'tis the Fulgurant Vista of  ―the Mind’s Sky.
       Our reveries thither beget the Astral Apotheosis hither. Embrace Eos, the Daughter of the Dawn; sing to the Sovereign of Songbirds whence all that reverberates is the Swansong. Surely Jehovah, who forms his name of the Tetragrammaton, shall efface thine ephemeral woe for eternity. ―Elysium awaits.”


Excelsior Forevermore,


Sanders Maurice Foulke III
Sydney Nov 2019
Waves                             they                     happy
     call me.                          call                       when I
       They crash                    out to                     see them
        and laugh                      me, with                 dance. They
    with the wind.                their beauty            beckon me
Beautiful and elegant      and shine. I am       towards them.
this is my first attempt at a concrete poem
Simon Oct 2019
What’s happened! A voice remarked. Why are my puzzle pieces scattered in a wasteland? Another voice spoke up, sounding distant. That’s what I’d like to know! Then more followed. Sounding like a choir of different voices were in effect. Except none of the voices sounded cheery in their perfect chorus on cue. A shriek followed. A wasteland full of shrieks rumbled the ground. Ejecting lots of dust. Blinding visibility across a wide landscape! A landscape full of sand. Governing a deadly waste scouring a dryness accumulating pieces of voices not to far off from one another. Dust from the shrieks rumbling the ground, finally clear. Settling a glimpse at what has been shrieking with such volumes of obscure reasoning. Puzzle…PIECES! Huh? Who said that…? The voice asked, completely taken off guard. What instrument are we trying to provide here? Not sure I’m exactly wondering what your trying to offer by the term (instrument)? Having instruments aren’t folly you know. Another voice interrupting the other voices conversing nonsense. You guys do realize non of what your saying is making any practical sense? Like…at ALL! Huh? One voice replied. Another joining in. Well if your so clever…why don’t you entertain us with how things should really be voiced? Gladly! The more logical voice commented. The voice acting snobbish made a sound. Showcasing it didn’t like being told what it knew and what it didn’t know. The dust has settled. The two voices conversing said on cue. Your point…? No logic, until you display your horizons onto the landscape which shows what we are. One voice replied confused. Logic? Another responded. Horizons? Then on cue again. Landscape??!! The logical voice continued. Just looking around the landscape, which introduces the horizon of who, what, and where you are. Making the logical assessment that, well…everything…is what should have been since the very beginning. Panting for just a single moment. Without claim or focus…the end! The two conversing voices completely dumbfounded, sighed very harshly! Finally deciding to take the more logical one’s words more seriously. Other voices following on cue. Which made all voices look down toward there surroundings. The logical one smiled brightly! AHHH! Another shriek came. O…JEEESSSUUUSSS!!! More shrieks accumulated the wasteland. Prompting more dust to rumble. Popping all over the horizon’s visibility again! So, what did we learn about this very confusing, obscuring display? Well…easy! A voice said from no where. That it was a display of nurturing. Huh…? Really? The one sounding like the narrator drawn in by the voices interest. Ya, well… They stopped to rethink what they just offered in response. Your hesitating. The narrator’s voice sounding suspicious. Ya, well… Not sure how to express what I saw. Still remaining suspicious, the narrator continued. Anda…what is it…you exactly…saw…? The voice from no where exploded all built up energy in one gigantic spurt! There was puzzle pieces scattered in a wasteland! They had no identity to speak of. Pieces deconstructed in a sand covered landscape full of dry essence. And…and… They stopped mid-thought to catch their breath! The narrator didn’t speak a word. The dust was symbolizing ones missing grasp at not figuring out they were all apart of the same form. The same essence. Drying out claims too full of themselves through partial reasoning on potential agreements never going anywhere. Mmmmm…mhm…mmmmm… The narrator seemingly amused by this information. No identity, means no way of connecting to one another. Never to make sense of the premise one could offer. Puzzle pieces stuck in the sands of dry essence. A rut too involved to be just any coincidence. The dry essence covering up each puzzle piece. Muffling there voices forever. They tried to reach out. Trying to make sense of (what could have been). Rather then how to assort their differences into one claim. Working together wasn’t this identities strongpoint. Pieces were arguing too much. Until one seemed to be the most offering of the bunch. Thou…thou… Go on. The narrator said. No one listened to them. Following in the footsteps of one foolish puzzle piece after the other. Until there was nothing to be left, but silence. The voice from no where shrieked towards the narrator’s glaring tension toward the speaker. Laughing in disgust toward the potential risk one poses when reaching out toward its other component pieces.
Puzzle pieces will never learn if each piece doesn’t know how to direct oneself, before connecting with the bigger, more established form. Which is rendered to a mere silhouette full of details invoking a nothingness claim.
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