A poem called Flower.?

Danny Rose

New member
Flower--


Flowers of mysterious consciousness
littered in asexual commune
upon the gurgling banks
of all illusion.

Flowers of
identical
individual being,
no different from a proton--

wilting and nodding
in magnetism,
with the indifference
of an amoeba,

floating along the current
of the futurity
of the past,
achieving true Zen

in timeless

unawareness


perfect stasis of being--
where fingers
are tendrils of hydrogen
impaling the space they intrude.
 
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