I gathered myself thereA’ hundred times over,To kill the Elusivity I had always found,And wed Her.A’blent into that hallowed groundWas IStanding removed,Outside and a part of the factSearching for a fictionTo fully unfold,To turn this useless leadInto a valued gold…

For the wedding dirge I heardHypnotic music in the unknown words,As mixed my many parts did IAmid fantastic fashion and café life.Countless spots to see, be seen,Composed the wedding’sMonochromatic color scheme.

A curious cold sweat extolledThe rabid easeOf injecting my manner into every scene.To any port passingInto my field of seeingCould I pilot my ready shipInto a state of Being.

And Being there,In the veins of backstreets,With oppressive thoughts misplaced,Is to touch the softest skinOn a lineless face,And on your shoulder placeA roaring gentle, endearing touchThat makes you love to forget too much.Being there,In the commerce that’s unbartered,In the ordered chaosWhere the Will is martyred,What you contrive to fail to mentionHolds intact the surface tension—Don’t break it, else fall from Grace—’Tis a shiny bright but Sunless space.

Being there,When from a thousand maidens’Outstretched, busying handsFlow warm ocean tides thatUnbury the treasures’neath your heart’s heavy sands,how your head will swim withthe pure sweet liquor of onna-rashii…Which stirs from withinEach proclivityThat spares life for Elusivity—day after day, on and onReal thoughts drown in the thoughtless flood,And steely dagger tastes not of Her blood.

If the gods had thereonSprayed a cheery light, or so denied,Loved or fought, laughed or cried,T’would matter little to my tingly mind—Much as surfing the cusp of the full moon’s waveDispels fear of any shallow watery grave.

There drifted I,With dream in handAs a pilgrim in a Promised Land.

There idled I,Only to spyThe noisy throng pass quietly by.