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these are the elements we attend
these are the abstracts of life

an empty
a void
a nothing
a vacuum

so many other things pretend
to be what corelessness entails
     but they are not
     they are the veils
     they are illusion
     all a pastiche

now is knowing
and comes the dawn

          something else
          intrudes here
          somewhere else

it is the structure of doubt
and the facade of certain doom
it is the season of terror
seen within the chasm's face

not only killing
but obliteration
not only pain
but agony sans end

     poisoned cycles move within
     tiny wheels which threaten life

everything becomes there
all unfoldings bloom
     bright the colors
     wondrous the shapes
each arising
finds expression
each combining
moves to proof
          as though to clasp the mind
          in the blinders of belief

               - Brendan Tripp

Copyright 1994 by Brendan Tripp