POEM: What Counts?

is at the of all true . Experiencing the , the sublime, may involve wooing over generations, even eons. However, on some inexplicable occasions, experiences fuel an incinerator that lays waste to all convention and worldviews. The part of this parent destruction is rebirth like a phoenix from the ashes. True emanates from this place. arises from this hearth. This poem is but an embarrassingly dim recounting of such occasions.

What Counts?

She recounted
In earnestness
A hi
That the spark of the divine is
In every person
I didn't have the to tell her
That
Is a fucking flamethrower
Incinerating every tenant of your whirled view
Kiln all that you ever
Every cherished precept
Every earned emotion
Every vicarious
Every body of sow called knowledge
Roasting every
The ash hole of every vice releasing
Kraken every bad imaginable
Till cremains
Soully to find yourself
As if
Razed from the dread
Singing a sublime song
Nothing you cant
In cite

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