At Phase Line Orange
At Phase Line Orange
Scorched instincts propel forward,
Bright scarlet perceptions waltz
their butterfly-winged embers
to ignite penitent-less passions.
And the all-searing third eye
resplendent in mystical attention
is forevermore agape.
At Phase Line Orange
Flames dance.
Charred ego-fires
make divine bones
white dust.
And carrion-chained consciousness
is set ablaze.
Fueled only by love’s tinder,
love’s tinder
is your garnet heart-pyre.
At phase line orange
The devout run
amuck.
Their berserk devotion
a tango of barefoot coal-treading
sovereignty.
Eons of ground-pounding rhythms udulate
around bonfires of blinding-effulgent awareness.
At phase line orange
The bush blazes with a million angel eyes.
Its scintillating luster
the atom bomb of all eyes.
Where the only eye
witnesses
gallantry shepherding
the unscathed, taintless observer
beyond every fathomed threshold
to the precipitous edged void.