because of interstitial glitches
that the brain delivers randomly
in
any course of thoughts
attempting
to be linear – in that great draught of senseless
psychic
breath on which you
streak
out like a storm of meteors into the vastness of the blessedness
of
unlit being wherein seeing
has
no point and you’re anointed for a timeless blip with an exquisite
cooling
drip from some oblivion
beyond
your last capacity to grasp – as if welcomed,
kissed
and clasped
by
a primordially infinitely loving mom and dad – well,
that’s
the moment he just had.
.
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