the Magus's Poetry Wilderness               Finished Works Menu

there is no sunshine
in muddvile
there are thoughts
that could combine, no
binding atoms, no
construction of any kind

one must reach down,
collapsing in distress,
fall to a sudden arrest
in the boules of Enfer
before one can arise,
attain a previous monotony
of reality

still quietness
a lull in time
cold touch of divine
preceding all events
questions whispered
in nocturnal light
hidden behind surrealistic sighs
and piercing eyes


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