Unsplash/Murray Campbell

Polyester hymns hang onto the islands of time,
Coloured by the rims of nebulan Kings, residing
In midnight palaces, where princes have their dwellings
In the lace of starry nights. In the distance that measures
The balance and eternity of years unpassed and 
Trampled upon, buds of galaxies bloom out into 
The soil of watery darkness, rooted in dust clouds,
Particles of monastic energy, and pluck light
From this blind vessel. A chorus of dancing roses
Bleed the raging sound. The universe
Sings its plastic ode. Trumpets rest for infinity, 
Whilst we evade the tyranny of sleepless joys.


Mountain View

The Complete Meditations of Elma Toyah: Meditations #3