A post-modern poem.


 

Dive into the abyss of the past.

Resonances to come, brief echoes of long times yet to go.

Receiving the beam of darkness that comes from a time ahead.

With the body, and the mind, bathing to the naked, dark photons.

To swallow raw bosons from all sides.

Darkness, no, run away from it. Search for its antonyms.

Lone shards, fledgling glimmers, glittering fragments, beaming debris.

Dead clarities. Evanescent nitescences.

Of all the suns still dead, make fire.

And live, in an eruptive hearth, in a sparkling dwarf, sweet omega.

Two short Quotes about the Gates of Death


Pir O Murshid Inayat Khan: « Why are you yourself the veil over the answer you seek? »

Seneca to Lucilius: « Then the secrets of nature will be revealed before you; this darkness will divide and the dazzling light will spring forth from all sides. Imagine what a magnificent glow there will be when so many stars unite their light. No shadow will tarnish this serenity (…) How will the divine light present itself to you when you see it in its place? »