Celestial Inbetweener, Ka
|
Avantitulus
< between All right and All wrong, there is a field, i thought i’d meet you there, my Ka. i see this place feelingly, my lovely bird with the head of an Angel. my spiritual glacier, crystalizing all living into perfection. perfection is unmovable, you told me that. ecniques. cleosynthesis. sufium. bats. birds. te. Ba. Akh. >
kissing your wings. * – you told me, not to be,
i am
don’t be
i am
don’t be
except, this stanza, does not remain entirely empty.
•
•
{ } see, Ka.
Light. Can’t. Be.
I see Light.
||
i am here to be sealed into flat filed cylinders, paper pipelines made of love letters in numbers. 143 143 143
what a strange number to mark love. isn’t it too much? a whole hundred, and more? or, isn’t it belittling the love? one hundred and three, it’s closer to 0 than to infinity. 42 is grander, it’s blue and greenish, its lighter, it’s much more definite and looks like an answer. 143 is a raising question.
143?
i don’t know, 42.
oh yea. 42.
a set of love numbers gifts loss to someone in a box of heart-shaped chocolates. more powerless, more ???, questioned, the other always a Ka loss still contains some million cathedrals or dug up baths bulleted where they are breathing from. and still, they are sinking deeper into questions. 143?
what time is it? 4:22.
i came back from the park recently. i’ve read that Ka is the spirit that leaves the body after death, it is our identity and uniqueness, soul if i may, following ancient egyptian beliefs. i follow them too, the golden papyruses leed me elsewhere. somewhere, where we measure by feathers instead of numbers.
what if my Ka is not just a bird, but an eagle?
or,
what if my Ka, is a colibri with my father’s head?
perhaps, my Ka doesn’t want to see me. i can’t imagine the day i will hopefully weigh less than a piece of feather, from my Ka.
i wish i could draw it, but i am bad in letters. look at the beauty of,
g
g
g. lens. ka
Ka
Ka, Akh.
Leave a comment