a desert of black trees

Walking in the desert. Every step unleashes a lightning, searching for me in the skies.

Unrelenting attempts. The boiling air withdraws his armies in abstract geometries of humility.

Sharp lines of black atoms establish the memory of the precise taste of lightning floods.

Black trees.

The endless, white desert of salt is my skin. I am neither inside nor outside.
Where will they find me? Childish lightning bolts.

The old black trees, geometries of ashes, are slowly moving, slowly dancing together in their sleep. Just one branch moving in a thousand years.
Yet a thousand dreams of lightning pass through them every second.
Shhh! Let them sleep. Let them search.

Black Bird wrote:The old black trees, geometries of ashes, are slowly moving, slowly dancing together in their sleep. Just one branch moving in a thousand years.
Yet a thousand dreams of lightning pass through them every second.
Shhh! Let them sleep. Let them search.

I wanted to cry, but my tears found no lands to flood.
I had no body until the lightning sparks of my children dreamed of me.
They search for me where I cannot possibly be.

Still, I would happily rest for a few endless moments in their restless sleep.

Oh boatman, I am relying on you for my safe passage to the other-side
I trust your judgement of the waves, the direction of the wind and the storm
I trust your judgement of the rows, the mast and the ores
My gratitude to you is nothing more than my trust
And I leave it to you for only you know how and where is the other-side!
Oh boatman, I am relying on you for my safe passage to the other-side!

Serpentine Emulsion wrote:Oh boatman, I am relying on you for my safe passage to the other-side
I trust your judgement of the waves, the direction of the wind and the storm
I trust your judgement of the rows, the mast and the ores
My gratitude to you is nothing more than my trust
And I leave it to you for only you know how and where is the other-side!
Oh boatman, I am relying on you for my safe passage to the other-side!

Our wooden arms, divinely bound together, will lead us through the floods of tears.
Until their binding will be so strong as to resist the sharp waves of space.
With you, there is no sinking and no other-side!

The river of life, dark and deep, moves swiftly.
The two sides are muddy, the middle is depth-less.
The soul makes a bridge for the sake of Dharma.
For those who wish can cross in confidence.
With the axe sharpened with Nirvana
Split open the tree of delusion and join the planks together.
When one climbs the bridge, do not go right or left.
The "Bodhi" is near you, do not go further away.
Those of you who want to cross to the other side
Wish it from your soul, from the greatest Maestro.

Serpentine Emulsion wrote:The river of life, dark and deep, moves swiftly.
The two sides are muddy, the middle is depth-less.
The soul makes a bridge for the sake of Dharma.
For those who wish can cross in confidence.
With the axe sharpened with Nirvana
Split open the tree of delusion and join the planks together.
When one climbs the bridge, do not go right or left.
The "Bodhi" is near you, do not go further away.
Those of you who want to cross to the other side
Wish it from your soul, from the greatest Maestro.

Currents, thick geometry of flowing, more vertical than trees.
One tries to hurry through the forest, until the feet learn the pace of roots.
The boat tries to hurry cutting the waves, really searching for the Wave that will finally cut open its flesh.
Then you realize the river flows from inside the boat, so which is this and which is the other side?

There is no question with which you can stop me from swallowing you with my eye!
Unless you arouse my hunger with light and tempt me to consume the Sun.
No need waiting, for soon a new planet made of dense tears will shine in the void.