Ex Astra Memoria. Blindfolds and ashes. His name is Imbroglio and that means confusion: who am I and who are you and what does it mean to be?
Blindfold so you don’t see what you think you’re seeing; so you can’t succumb to the mind-trick reality illusion; ashes to remind you of the caloric body burn – we are all fire on the inside and her name is Aisling Veritas – vision of Truth and why must truth be limited to sight; reverb the blindfold and that’s where the reality echo hides.
And he misses her kiss, finds it in the ice wind at the highest peak of the city – that much closer to heaven, that much closer to the stars and the memory locked inside them, that much closer to the breathless escapism of the exosphere’s final shell.
God lingers in the asphyxia hollow, in the interrupted birth-death-rebirth breath cycle. The body is the mind is the soul and three is the magic triad number so if there’s a third eye, is the third lung the one that God breathed life into?
His name is Imbroglio and that means confusion: who am I and who are you and what does it mean to be? You die in the momentary asphyxia hollow, and that means, for you, I die: without oxygen, the fire extinguishes: in the asphyxia hollow, we are nothing but ash.
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Yess. You two. Please make more words together. xx C
p.s. Gabriel Gadfly…”Wow” Exquisite crust murmur-shatters. Beauty.
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I remember this piece…but I can’t remember which words belong to you and which belong to me.
Gabriel Gadfly´s last blog ..Susurration and Earthquake
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His name is Imbroglio and that means confusion: who am I and who are you and what does it mean to be?
And he misses her kiss, finds it in the ice wind at the highest peak of the city – that much closer to heaven, that much closer to the stars and the memory locked inside them, that much closer to the breathless escapism of the exosphere’s final shell.
God lingers in the asphyxia hollow, in the interrupted birth-death-rebirth breath cycle.
and her name is Aisling Veritas
….
Such penetrating, punctuated words, and from the ether rise the forms of these two. They capture me.
Breath inhaling into them, they seem to swell slightly with form, and then,an incredible gust, sigh…into ash.
I want to read their love letters. Give moisture to their tears.
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Ashes crush beneath our feet as the tattered curtains around the bed flutter in the breeze. This Confusion leaves and allows for unfettered expression between two passionately engaged partners.
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