Step inside the facade of my ancient book; history begotten,
written in finest forms, papyrus indicates strong resistance,
beg me to stay,
I am the foreboden, carrier of knowledge expired,
renewed in the cosmos in the ether, black holes speak my frequency,
have decency, only humility gains credit in this book of illusion.
Beg for me to stay.
For you see, the 111 of thy angels has long ago descended,
my inhibitions are not a part of my being, they have dissolved, salt in the ocean, bridge over water, crimson letter with an uptide predilection for the self; the inner self,
count the swift beings of the upper dark to eradicate chapters unsustainable.
Inside the tethered structure, pages rip dividing great seas, Moses,
the Red October returns; capped with melting icebergs, stranded creatures,
holy the flying lion, land of the great White Sea; the neverending story.
Inside this tethered structure remains a great divide —
a parting of ways perpendicular to Tesla’s equation of the inner sun,
come and join me, we shall conquer; yet, dissolve into the One,
zero sum, the ultimate one, come with me, come.
Beyond the division of the self; ancient books arise, full of script,
Hebrew and dialect of intelligence far beyond our comprehension,
the bravery of Roswell, no one ever knew what began, they simply ran,
ran into the ten-fold of creatures familiar; human kind, benign,
creatures benign, hold your mother — father tight,
credits are undue, overdue booklings renewed after faith has been,
If you dig a little more,
permanence becomes entity,
your better self, an entity,
crashing into Mars like the Jupiters of the underseas;
crash right into me, right into me,
we are meant for dissolution,
Anna Rozwadowska 2019