Prowlers Corruption

The mind's function is to divide. The heart's function is to see that which the mind is completely blind of.

What I have let become assembled

is like a puzzle that swarms in circles within the mind.

What I have let become familiar

is almost like abandonment that bores with passive force.

Carelessly I muse,

tracing the rock of life inside my body,

setting in motion the impassable force

that radiates outwards,

shaping the layers of life,

and disturbing the surfaces of truth.

 

What I have let become dreams

is like a failure remaining to be revealed in the pits of demise.

What I have let become reflected

is like hiding the deep unknown emotions inside me

that are continuously draining me,

bleeding me, and raising me from below.

 

Such dire reflections leave me

feeling as if I’m bathed in waters of failure;

while the lesser fine reflections leave me

feeling the rarest of innocence.

 

Here, I am reaching outwards

and touching divine innocence,

for only the briefest moment,

for only the tiniest speck,

still long enough to sense

that the erratic virtue lying within

is being hanged and tortured

by the conscience of my creation.         

 

Here, I am touching upon nameless obsessions,

sensing my tortured self as I extend outwards,

as I widen towards the patterns of knowledge

that have only been borrowed so I may create

a sense of living with the least fragment of awareness.

 

What I have let become watchful

is like a realization that I have not reflected,

and what I have let become a sense

is like my own deaden love towards myself,

            spoken within the infectious mind.

 

What I have let become untouched

is like an infestation that the mind swarms constantly with.

What I have let become assembled

is like the concepts of all that is preventing me from living,

            and that is like the death within the moment.

 

Here, I swallow this infestation

in order to give rise to the awareness

of what I have been reflecting upon,

of what I have been affected by.

Here it is not the voice of self,

but the empty dialogue that belongs to the mind.

Reviews

[Magdelena]

Fantastic!! Now this took my breath away...

Mags xx

[Beth Wilcox]

This is so beautiful and creative!