The Blue Abyss

The Blue Abyss

The liquids of the core release the pain of the inner chamber,
The atoms are colliding with the fifth dimension.
How does the chariot surpass the clouds of smoke
Where are the philosophers to aid in the dialectic?

Whitman, Keats is the truth found in the blade of grass?
Oh, offer me thy altar so that we may enter your bower’s mass!
Oh, Whitman why is it difficult to sing of myself?
Oh, Keats sleep is ripe within my atoms.

Wait,the chariot looms in the fathomless dark,
The dunes have released the blue melody,
This blue sings of poesy and its powers.
Oh, how we sollicit your powers!

Are you from the chambers of that dark passage?
Will you offer a blue melody for us to pipe?
Are you seeing the blue notes that linger over that pit?
Do you hear the blue grass that whispers its melody?

Are the blue passages within your reach?
Can you reach the chariot form the blue grass?
Are your feet asleep? Has the grass intoxicated your senses?
Do you ever wish to be released from this sleep?