A perfume of confusion lingers
as my confessions sweep me into a
dark chasm.
The splendid scent of my fall
still vibrates through me
truth is obscurity's prisoner
as I roam these forgotten realms.
The presence of some frequency I desire alludes
Oblivion is fought with intention
The fire is fading
purer embers dwell deep
hesitating until
a shift in consciousness ignites
My soul feels like a clouded glass chalice
The sky spins so fast above me
I hunt for a serene whisper
where a breath of love speaks
Where two aspects become one
I hunt for merciful wings
the divine prey haunts me
and I am a tired saint with
only an enchanting scent to chase.
Kori 2012
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