Half-unlocked
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| by Hive account@d-pend |
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Half-unlocked
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A crystal key half-turnèd in the lock,
an implement all crimson-light and smoke
solidified — to make all matter mock,
a drear and whole-imagined mental yoke
in monochrome of long-imprisoned glee.

The purpose and the pointlessness of me
swirl as but so many spiraled streams.
Cold particles and heat of agony
reluctant, intermix in fever dreams
of oil and black water — ancient prime.

The indivisible, elusive time
whose passage is a trek through lightward space,
procession and conveyance — casket mine
delivered to more delicate embrace
of strange annihilation half-divine.

A crystal key has turnèd in the lock,
an implement of utter heresy
that makes of every truth eterne a mock
and sets the fire-soul ecstatic-free.