trochilidae
truths passed through the fog powerful language by men women entities of grand renown glittering in the acclaim of their followers self-made mortal gods each proclaiming scripture live this way open the gates to a universal personal heaven saint peter be damned.
so many truths you cant go wrong no matter what you do.
preachers and teachers former colleagues i love them no longer but they the gods whove found their mantras they can hum it down the mountain valleys another bird song for the choir symphonies of their aesthetics loud enough to swallow the world.
as for me ill only ever preach one thing again:
build your own temple / of wood or stone or hope
and from the failure of becoming as like your gods /
find your own song for the valleys
no truth is absolute / but the one born of your divine.
breathe.
—hum.
§