Falling from Perdition

Casting visual acuity deeply
into dark crystal.
Shapes emerge, as in film montage.
I know not names of god nor
divisive mythology.
I know not dates and houses
for inconsolable worship.
I know not truth nor Truths
nor what it is to care
in checkered boxes.
I walk softly in the morning.
Drink awakening dew, sunbeam blessed.
I take what has always been mine,
cherish magnificence
and leave rough visions
of apocalypse to human eyes.
.
.
.
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