In the library of the night
Seconds flick as pages scanned.
A gilded, bound and chained world
Reading, exploring, explaining itself.
An Alexandria, an akashic island,
Self-muttured, self-revealing,
A transliteration through dream.
And somehow
( there always seeming to be
No causes, always just strings of effect),
A simple phrase gongs and peals,
Bursting, a match in tinder,
A moment drawn dancing out,
A simmer of vocables,
A play of chord-thoughts.
One word becoming
A thousand languages,
A mandala, a point,
A pebble rippled
Surface
Where a glowing moon
Slides and steadies.
One word, one sky.
The view
From where you are,
Accidental muse.
—-
simonhlilly 