Tales drift through my memory like the rain storm consumes the earth a vengeance. There a long line of white robed guards emerged from dark depths in the sea. Champagne music echoes throughout the land. I’m drifting in the clouds, consumed with fever. A spiciness tantalizes my taste buds, sparking a glare from an onlooker approaching me from my left. The hours emerge from farsighted cracks. I’m renounced by dreams of fate. If ever there were illusion burning along my soul, the paths toward heaven ignite a new sense of belonging within me.
I cannot fathom the loss of saturated beings who commit their lives to withholding light. My life is about service to the indentured grains of salt. Among the stars, indignant beams of light open up new worlds. I jump into them, and explore all they encumber.
For among them are my future and past selves. I hide to avoid running into them. For if they were to see me. all would end up in chaotic episodes of my mind.
If ever I came to askance for fire to burn throughout the land, it was then. At least then my story would burn up in flames, and I’d be able to return to the world I originally came from. I don’t know of any other realm I’d rather be in other than my own, unless I could be disguised as someone else. In doing so, my past and future selves would fail to know who I am.
For to propel into the fortitude of the sun causes me a rendering of music. Should the driver deliver me into the grape, vengeance would cause a dizziness as if there was a drunkenness to it. Fever becomes me to a philosophical approach to life. For the town beneath the waves of my flesh has bordered me. A line is drawn upon the ground. I sink into it, getting transformed into nothingness. A spirit lives on, and beats down your walls. Once they are broken down there is no measure from which to run against the grain.
Drive out all illusion, and dream me into the sunlight. For it is there I shall implode all which is holy amongst the heavens in the heavenly bliss of earthly realms. Deliverer, bring me out of my glazed eyes, and focus my attention upon salt burning crevices of time and space.
For is there none other than isolation boiling. I must continue on my journey towards remittance. Drive me out of the fires, and bring me into lands of plenty. Then, I can be bountiful where my heart is lavished with opportunities for its golden fleece. It surrounds me with its magical powers trapped within it. Once they emerge, hallow light opens up my being, and blends into my core.
I refuse to drown in my core. All you see is me in the eyes of the self, but do you?
© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2016