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No part of this poetry should be reproduced in any form without written consent from the author, Joe DiMino who retains all rights. Contact.

"The Ever Climbing?" by Joe DiMino.

Down through a portal
Stranger than Alice's hole,
My white rabbit of youth
Plummeting toward a
A private band of
Golden myth
For magic in a world as yet unknown:
I smile…thinking, "My Precious…my Precious"-

From place outside
Usual patterns of recognition,
I chant my soul
Mantra of unraveling-
A spirit-fabric
For new weaving
Of body with a scrubbed
And softened sense-

This is true life,
The lamp rubbed back
To basics-
No false-face of patterns
Of woven lies;
We are each intricate enough
With features
Of limitless creations;

They are omnipotent enough
Finding within themselves
All meaning,
And outside themselves
All of themselves
Infinitely projected-

God man
Man God? We are alike,
The greater and lesser
Out of mere thinking-
Prestidigitation of images;
The fruition of ourselves
From dreaming into done
And then letting go,
The resting
With sheer joy
Of knowing new worlds
When needed
Spoken into abundance-

We voice…and create-

Life out of seeming nothing
And death into heavens

Tragedy into the miracle
Of conquering,
And defeat
Cast into oblivion-

Hell is a cesspool of fertilizer

Fumes of which we rise on
For far more lovelier roses
With sweeter scent
In the ever climbing-

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