Monday, 16 February 2009


My mind is rolling round

What is

The inner cathedral

The inner sanctum lined with formless wealth

Moving slowly

Filling every imagined space

With featherlike smoke

I follow this entity which is not.

As all I am, is within.

All I was, inside, rolling, filling

What happens now?

I feel a craving a must

A formless chant

Haunting my yearning

My love, my life, my labour.

How is it that I must follow?

This seamless barren place

That calls me,

Cry’s at me,

Ever whining for furtherance

All will be revealed

When and to whom?

And still I follow and still

I am


By Alix Harrow

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