i read once, that words are weapons. wield them wisely, in their splendor, in their violence. that in the silence of what it is, and what could be,
they find their defiance.what lies between what’s written, and that which crowns perception?
indefinite shadows masquerade upon walls, while the hallows of truth beguile acceptance.
i wonder, of the words that don’t break the surface, liminal gods of expression,
what kinds of matters, remain estranged, severed, from man-made transcendence. such sources of vision, however fragmented, of divine prismatics
somewhere in-between sentient beings,
and sorcery and magic.
truth evades us, even as words proliferate,
in the fertile nexus,
the realm of intangibles.
simulated experience, blinds us with signals, traps us within the threshold. where meaning, becomes gesture, where word, becomes symbol,