Mind's eye
flows quicksilver,
connects the pinpricks
in night's sea.
Sees the song in the soil,
lips in the wind,
ears within a flame.
Has feet that sense
the cobblestones of twinkle
between air and sun.
Feels the vice
from sunrise's grip,
arrows shot
by clouds.
Elongates its membrane
becoming an astral stream,
to obey the taste of celestial pudding,
flavor only found in artificial servings
among the earth's pantry.
Eve brings the key
opening the archway
unto a silvery spiral ascension,
one moment of pure transcendence
is a Deja vue romance,
cradle for illumined rebirth.
Appetite for cosmic candles
kills the palate's satisfaction
for what is touched by hands.

~Pamela



9 old applause
