Nik Boyd
What qualia?
Qualia in Quandra
and loco in loka.
What sublime
craziness must press
our lips out
to kiss the Moon?
What Luna sea
to sail so free.
You carry my arrow
in your quiver
and shiver me timbers,
or blow me down.
You spur the froth
upon my crown.
Eros and arrow fly
heart to eye
eye yikes
me hearty.
We sail beyond
the flat Earth's edge
and swab the decks o'er
our beds with rime,
until the seas are
spent with time.
O'er the edge again
or down the drain,
a vortex knot
doth swell with pain.
Space, Time,
erg and mass
gravitates a quantum lass
or lad Divine
that come to pass.
"Oh sass!" you say.
Oh brash new day!
Oh Brady may or Mary then
and swell once more
upon the sea of
once held possibility.
Until this word so fine is spent
the World itself must heal its rent,
or rend and render once again.
What once was held
is now released
and sent forth well,
like lightning greased,
to fall once more
into the crease
that splits the mind in two.
Not found, for sure,
no pair-ity or balance made
betwixt the rent
so safely laid.
That's all I thought
I had to safely say.