Impulse

Mood is my body

manifesting itself

through subtle levels

too light to touch

too faint to hold.

The remains of my lost thoughts

fall without making a sound

without leaving a trace.

How do I speak

of harmony

of light

and the process of the rose?

I have come through

twisted from the labyrinth

emerging fully formed

from the tunnels of time.

It is all a colorful pattern

yet fearsome and dark,

a strange loop

where words are arranged

in spiraling currents

a sequence discarding logic

a structure without

a stable frame.

No need here

for a physical body

just a seed

containing the process

and the freedom

that brings it life.

I remain

an unknown mass

a life impulse

a lustful fountain

a fading thought.