Friday, May 2, 2014

Atavistic Agriculture

Seeking the stillness of a previous persistence, a crack in the voice of history that enables the deepest of breaths...and the most sacred of nights...Thrilling in its exposure, an expediency unequalled and underscored...highlighting the spaces of dreams that persist despite the profound mist of memory...the darkening dance of the moon's reminiscent remedy...Challenging the structures of now forbidden truth, the light of knowledge grasped somehow in my youth...Years are passing like days of rain...and that distance, that resistance, modifies the patience of painted parades, of star-studded cascades...In another moment, another ephemeral stage, the tired and weary will be renewed...and unafraid...Striking the facade with a simple veneer of a superficial serenade...a place tied to the mystery of beginnings, of original significance...But yet again it repeats the soft and subtle myth, whispering in the shade of meadows and minds...A stronger impulse finds its relevance in the righteous ravine of remembering, of recognizing...That same ancient name, the nomenclature of a singular and individual game...Circling the expectation of truth, grasping to the movement of proof...the motions of the past continue to bear fruit...