Baptistery
By craig2
Quiet penance seeking the inner labyrinth of the mind, the lone passion of retreat ignores the autumn chill. Day breaks on intense introspection, like lightning seeking the horizon, the monotone rhythm of me subsides, reality to metaphysic becomes indulged, then motory. The rustling forest stills itself with Zacharias silence. A crow lands on my shoulder, and stares a deep contrition. Lost in this onyx portal, pelted by a waterfall of lavender retina, Francis stands naked, bleeding, pointing to the edge of a lake where a wild-haired, red-eyed madman, with skin like pungent earth, lips like aged womb, stands knee-deep in muddy water, beckons me to cleanse myself, speak to this sensitive creature. Written December 15th, 2001 © on Mar 08 2002 02:46 PM PST 18 • 0 • 10
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"Quiet penance seeking the ..."