Apropos

I shall press within these leaves

The flowers I have found
Now dying, wilted but preserved
In this echo of form transposed.
 
My thoughts wander, continually
Stirring up the clouds of doing
Undoing not-doing - these calm the murk
Leaving only the medium, undisturbed.
 
Take me from this art form,
This work unfinished but true.
None shall follow where I have led,
The paths obscured, only hints remain.
 
My words here lay like thunder
An eternal approximation,
A record
Of what came to pass.  
Violence
Rending the unversed universe asunder,
As under
So above.
 
Your world
And mine
Shall not
Be written
Here. 

Reddan Black
May, 2011