by Long Shotten
'Twee the portals of the frameworks beyond the filigree, t'worn and t'wisted as if wished away on a twister, in a rolling sea of perpetuity and cresting chances, and avalanches of opportunities crushed under one another in a falling concussion from rocks on up high, cascading in cannonballs of exploding steam, refracting droplets of rainbow shattering dream, leaving reflections behind the curved lenses of eyes struck in wide open dilation from the incoming beams of light.
Welcome to my gallery of dreams. It's one small mirrorlike seed reflecting a host of seeds around it, each a reflection of another tiny identical seed looking like a miniscule obsidian teardrop that when zoomed into reveals an ever opening succession of galaxies filled with mirroring seeds repeating the dazzling reflections phenomena in a self blinding concussion of brightness expanding into further shades of blinding white from which deep within a pinpoint of shadow arises like a lonely period at the end of a long lost sentence left unremembered for millennia.
The golden filigree remains a fractal of the uncurling whole, just one strand from a rare metallic fiddlehead rendered from the vine lost to the winds of time. It's been said to have formed itself one particle at a time in an elaborately wrought performance which renders the framework of the portal itself as a representation of passageways which lead to the development of another world rendered from the endless succession of seeds built into a grand filigree curling into an elaborately wrought framework.
No comments:
Post a Comment