Fractal Intelligence
Fractal Information
a hunger
for specific points a reflection of dots on a grid
a perspective of binocular
consciousness
from a distant scope
in sight a broad mosaic
of a billion brightly colored
points on a grid
forming mist and symbol
to a cellular scenario
where matter breaks down
into energy to be transferred
among points on a grid
along lines of communication
electron transference
to the meaning of my meeting
you and points on a grid
to the planets shrugging
shoulders shifting polar
density
to the maps of our beings
plotted like a million points
on the the grid of time
where we find each other
waiting
to the solar system
spiral towards the center
of the golden ratio
law of octaves; 64 fold
tantric cards of possibilities
and the 12 hands rotating
around the 13th body
to the capsule of words
we buried in time planting
seeds of meaning behind
every threaded tapestry of
(being) manifested moment
dreams have lead us here
before; Do we have the courage
to take down the door
off its hinges?
to the silent storm of space
traveling entangled atomic
asteroid beaming bracelets
of Olympian headed god court
Dragon tail chasing rabbit worm
wandering the bobby-pin
bouey bounce signing
wave on the dotted line
points on a grid
to the memories yet to be made
yet we have already remembered
following lines of thought
trajectory laid out like
points on a grid and here
we're traveling time
conscious beings
-what is mapped, not
the map - we are (being) in
Love with the ever unfolding
detailed complexion
of infinity crossing your
sky as shooting star
dust sustains suspension
in the air photograph
like points on a grid
to the metered pulse of holy
flaring furnaces of fusion
machines sun centered hub
of heat/light transference
exhaust perma-culture
of heavenly scripted bodies
all vying for the golden apple
laying virtues out
a map of their being
points on a grid
the cadence of their dance
unique and timely radiant
before death the Adviser
become of Observer
then Succor
breaking the bodies
down in fiery belly
bottom blues feeder
wash away the rain
draw down the one
from two perspectives
a union of chariots
made with wooden blessing
from the living tree Goddess
willing
we'll cross what is mapped
not the map - pass through
the threaded gate of honecomb
mystery keepers to seat
amid the circle of light
we are blinking candles
closed eye tight lid
magick
like points on a grid
In : Poetic Musings
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