In meeting batter dice

In meeting,
two circles
become aware,
batter dice.

Laughing,
breathing themselves light,
through this game of oblivion.
Whimsical but doomed,
while juggling and juxtaposing,
they become concentric.

Sweeping imaginations,
roaring seas become one,
and seasons turn.

The term blooms: time plucks fresh flowers,
jewels endlessly gleam, even lightning illumes,
& windows offer their most precious panes.

Deep depths become known,
unfathomable looks apparent,
& the now jagged old lacquers amuse.

Old monsters slither away,
past time’s sorrows disappear;
The devil no longer tempts & god just exists.

The old Universe must have fled,
the music, serene harmony;
Each song measures hares out of hats
magicians could never tame.

The whole circles and Realizes all possible,
except eternity. There no longer,
the breathing light exhausts.

Old easy clues disappear,
folklore gets blown out.
Famished & exhausted, the circles cross over.

Now hammering stammers:
introspection bewildered.
Silence, too, a weapon now.

The engines whir leaving behind a mighty start.
Circling now, they burn holes through the middle.

At the base now a feeble sweeping,
burning eyes, & just screaming,
The lines have read beyond.

The circles split and repent.
The mirrors bring reflection,
first burning vision, then
every mathematical second.

The circles change rose-red to black again,
and away lightning cackles, awaiting
some distant thunder's roar.