When approaching the valley
spirit and its serpent winds,
some head for the memorable hills.
But electrical geography and
biological transducers.
Emptiness and transformation.
Hollywood and vine.
Awareness is beyond all taxonomic
ranks.
Mirror mirror waterfall, who’s that
unknown powerball.
Potentiality is nothing ordinary.
Third eye. Second wind. Heart heart
heart.
Bare trees dancing in the sky with
a rhythmic stillness.
Darkness descending from sweet
glacial moraines.
Venus is sailing on her universal
silver river.
Although it’s seen that nothing is
really known,
an energetic trace of fear remains
as
something once thought to be known.
And even though one knows it's
nothing,
Christ it tastes like shit.
And so it's said that Buddha is a
dry shit stick.
While the world is dreaming
to awaken, one is always kissing
the phantom of that opera.
Only love can know it's nothing.
The mind can only talk about it.
And so it's said that all you dream
is love.
And love is a tale
told by a fool
signifying the absolute.
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