That first seal, the prolegomenon
I hear it rupture from the grimy street
Wading through the filth that makes us, the mucous and bloody
Tonight, though
Something about the beacons on decrepit towers
Elicits from me the pursuit of a revelation
What is it that spans this valley?
Pulsing venous masses
drooling and aching
Blinking amorphous, piercing
Or do we dream in
Saccharine crystalline angels
Their geometries entrapped in splintering light
Grazing on the higher planes of oneness
The beauty of it sickening
Its possibility divided by zero
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