The Pantheon of Unborn Strangers lost in Aristotelian Syntax

An infant, on the edge of the Insane Asylum --- the opposite side of the World,

is counting Wildebeast as they travel 

across the sky, remembering the Bedouin nomads whose face contained 

a series of ribboned movements, the lavendar erudition of

a blue flag, the flame that spirals around the edge of the African continent,

where the lunar escarpments drop across the sea and the sky

into curtains of transcendent insanity.  The Infant, beginning at the 

edge of the Asylum door, entering where the complexity of the Southern 

Sky 

contains an unfathomable cruciformed apparitions, the seven stars igniting 

in somnambulatory hallucinations, approaches the door with the 

face of a Seashell curved against the crashing of the waves, where a rhinoceros

is gazing through a network of candelabras and the 

Asylum contains a Pantheon.  

*

The world at the edge of the world contains a flowery howl,

where thunder is a voice of the ancient contagion, 

dandelion epistles singing like Socrates through the Asylum door

where Plato sits,

the Academician on the verge of the Light, where the end of the world

contains nothing but logic, an Aristotelian syntax 

that comprehends categories but nothing of the disintegration of Gods

across Time,

the Asylum where a Pantheon of Strangers is a parable of 

Infinite Beginnings.