Black Braid

As seen in SilkMilk spool #4

Imagine a tree within a tree,
A strand within a strand,
Matrixes within a grain of sand,
The very braid of this concept,
Entangling every woman, child and man,
Being the building blocks of our very hearts,
Also of the light presiding,
In every distant star,
Divinity connecting the near and the far,
Silky silver lining,
Of a tapestry woven in the dark,
The spinstress’s hood, cloak, her body and face,
Acting like a background betwixt all empty spaces,
Ushering forth in an explosion like when mages meet,
Two hermits on a path of mirrors, feet touching feet, greet,
Finding a kindred,
Exalting the none and the one,
Now they reflect the Moon,
Parting at the dawn of the Sun,
The evening’s memories experience to take with them,
They two separate as well they should,
Knowing they may meet again,
One goes left, one goes right,
One into the day,
And one into the night,
Joining occasionally on a middle ground,
Though the terrain can be rough and grey,
The stuff which we must go around,
Until the land meets the sea,
The captain of some black ship clearly beckoning,
They each chose to take a seat,
Right there on that shore, starry,
As it is, so mote it be,
They will not be boarding,
Instead, within their minds a web is spun,
Straight from a great embroiderer,
Tongue in cheek,
The journey has begun,
Mandibilically,
For not yet have they bought a ticket,
To cross the great abyss,
Lestly together,
The divine dew of thought and imagination weaving,
Water’s warning:
Spider senses may develop,
Pours may begin breathing,
Waiting to catch the fly inside the palm,
The past and the present,
In an hour glass of future pleasantries,
Arachnidian sustenance,
Suckle the honey from the bees,
Opening the secrets on the paths and of the trees,
Piercing venom,
The horrors of personal atrocity,
To be transformed, overcame and eaten mentally,
Alchemically,
Food for thought,
The quintessence of this drips down the chin,
Of whatever may have made them,
Droplets of understanding,
They flow without the vessel,
Like eight God-like limbs spread wide,
Could embrace tighter than tight,
Suffocating false conception,
Snake will not blink a wink,
A tool in nine,
Eight third-eyes upon eight Cyclopes sphinxes,
Paws for which to extract a stringy substance,
All or nothing,
Topographical sinistral spiral motion,
Penetrating the self and then out,
Collective sub-consciousness,
Dive into that ocean,
The Mirror of Love and Fear,
Breaking down foundations,
That you thought you held dear,
The rock that you revolve around,
Discombobulation,
The hermit knows that the road itself is home,
Settle into riddles of the mind, of the tomes,
The sky within, the holes to heaven,
One and one make one eleven,
So much bound within a marking,
Burn it down, drown it,
Give it to the wind or give it rings,
Stroll on into the dawn in and of paradise, 'till sunset,
Let it make you cry,
Allowing this to play with your head,
The eyes of both seekers, contemplating,
Not even open yet,
As if they dissolved into the very water front,
Lost in this sweet lingering,
A holy third and fourth and fifth,
Thoughts are the keys to manifesting,
And knowledge,
A secret passage,
Leading to where the boat departs,
Diamond thread of luminescence outlining it,
On a sea of souls embarking....