Consummation
I won’t remain irreconcilable forever.
One day I will manage to align my breath
with my thoughts
and stop the chakras from curling up
like pubic hair scrubbed against the sheets.
I will intone an impassive mantra
at the edge of stormy wrecks
left behind since the day
when the terrors of time and nothingness
clung to the brain cortex
as an endless migraine.
A limpid ying-yang note
will throb inside my chest at last,
swallowed in ancient fibers
of the nourishing vegetable fodder
smoothing down the arteriosclerotic tide
of the blood in its thick fleshly voracity
towards the cosmic strata
and the perfect synchrony with the mystery
of the unspeakable.
I will find the accurate point
where the axis of the universe
aligns after the shivering
of everyday nausea
and the tremor of the unfathomable human horror.
Six pauses after six deep breathes
will be enough
so life and death
reach the same color and smell,
as an incense burning down
without knowing, without dreaming, without wanting.
