* Fires of Passion *
Unquiet chaos is a clamour which carries with it only a vanishingly small meaning. It bangs on the wooden gate of the city.
My city is paved with the welcome accretion of time. Where I live are tall halls and cool corridors, winding pathways lead into walled courtyards, and oh, such scented gardens.
Such gardens. Filled with delights for the ears and the eyes of winged and walking creatures.
Regard them. All of them might be me. And none of them are me. They, we, enjoy these delights as curious visitors.
We come and go. We arrive and disembark lightly from fragments of afternoons, so many decades gone by.
When it is time, we dissolve into bubbles of quiescence, without regret or rancour.
The silence of smiles recollected swiftly stills all clamour of unquiet.
Intense love quenches every last residue of fear.
Sentience springs refreshing into every material part.
No bitter waters can fall from my eyes, and the balance between life and intimations of no-life is complete
~ Love is present EveryNow