Love sometimes hits a point
of diminishing returns
but on the rise nonetheless,
while hate is eternally
concave down, forever sloping
abysmal. Grace lifts us
to lofty aerie, the sweetest vantage.
© Chagall 2015
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Archive for June, 2015
Working right now on the internet’s interplanetary expansion,
appearances point to IPv12 to provide all that we’ll need
to be heard above the din of inter-creative force, a border protocol
at the edge near the boundary right before event horizons suck you in,
all for the sake of smileys bounced between the stars.
Winding down, springs relax long
given room to breathe,
not taut as before, just now
assembled here together with me, outstanding
but a step apart, a whisper in the ear, an aside,
a glimpse nonetheless intimates air upon a wave
upon a cheek a kiss fell once upon a time
while winding down we tucked each other in
to the chin in deep warm down, and down I go
in a spin – black magic I’ve heard, dance with me
under devil moons – but those are just clouds
I’d say. And grace rises up from the ground, a pond
upon which we walk, the softest step,
we surf smoothly, skimming on the soles of our feet
moving as we do in our dreams, but now awake and able to fly
here just like there, hovering high and low on a whim,
as we desire. Take your time. Decide. Where shall we go?
© Chagall 2015
I hope you love
the life you have,
in fact I even pray
that you have everything
you’d ever want, may you never want.
© Chagall 2015
