Weight of unfinished creation, of history yet to be written.
Burden of paradise.
INTERIM 
PERTURBIA
// flesh surrenders itself to orders with roots in chaos
An invitation to the uncharted, to a feast of violent delights.
// now the gentle violence is behind me
Sometimes hope can be a whirling wind dancing a dangerous dance in the celestial court.
Keeping the promise to self, the visitor visits.
Dressed in a daemon, approaches the pedestal set in the middle of time.
Gazes upon a familiar zeal in an unfamiliar form.
Words pour out of the skull and it’s crown into the visitor’s eyes without eyes.
In a voice from the past, it says, “My dream, a bold sailor, half ship half hurricane, silent as a butterfly, impatient as a falcon: how did it have time and patience today for weighing of worlds?”
DREAMER 
VISIONARY