Poem : Mooring Mirrors May Melt

A gaze from a maze :

It reached the pinnacle

Of a spinning mountain

A mountain that wasn’t a mountain

A mountain that may be a myth

A mountain that may be a mist

Ever before the eclipses and ellipses

The gaze from the maze untold :

O Mountain, O Mountain

Why are you spinning so much

Why are you ocular like an oracle

We wanted you to spew and spell red red ashes

Mountain mused in myriad moorings :

Lumen, O Lumen

Why are you gazing so much

There is so much of pain in my mirrors

There is so much of flux in my faces

There is so much of ash in my wishes

There is so much of spin in my rain

There is so much of echo in my edges

There is so much of clutter in my caves

There is so much of rift in my rafts

There is so much of pyre in my prisms

Gaze grooved into the gyrus gist of the mount

Mountain, O Mountain

The mistaken mirror of rocky rivers

You are never a manacle for our mazes

It was leeched by the limps and lashes of lumen

Lost in a locus of logarithms, the mountain melted million times

Lost in the lyre of larks, the mountain mirrored mincing primes

Gauges of gyrus kind gave a grim veer of verdicts

Mountain was spinning out of soil and self

It paved the way of mooring ashes

Sages, spirals, spells and serpents

They just segregated witnesses ever after

Prisons and Pilgrims were done thereafter

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