invertendo man inside out

death looks from within my eyes -
neither attracted nor repelled -
a life lived and all things come and go,
but this I know, that death looks through my eyes,
isn't it so - I shall pass by

deep calls to deep -
that is the longing song of
as above so in you and we are

always going and never arrive,
a surging urge,
a wavelet amongst waves
that come and in restlessness ever go -

blood makes noise and bones rattle -
I will play the bones to make my blood sing
Poetic mysteries and my tears will write earthen histories
and wash the ink of this pen with
a fluid flowing heart all over again:
an ancient echo, a longing ache in etched bones that lay awake --

as an idiot staring at forever, profoundly dumb,
without but within, neither compelled by mediocrity
nor attracted by individuality --

awash in an ocean and ever blowing
in a veritable wind; inscrutably peregrinated then --