the quixotic criptologist

how how

the man is the son of the boy

the boy

father to the man

this soft glow by candle light

this wild wood

I figure

on my fingers

count the paths

the strange groves

the meadow

within the center of the trees

as tall as lords

brazen naked

flesh you

running through the corridors of Christ

bare and free



haphazard hallowed sanctuary

love me for the pure

crystalline me

the light that shines through to you from the bottom of me

we are the root numbers

of this dense equation

the seed from which all flowers grow

the catalyst

the straw

the breaking point is now

the beginning is returning

we are yoking with our origins.


About binaryLady

Front-End Wiz and Full stack developer

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