Triumvirate
Tripletting from our own heads
we brought them forth as gods;
wiseheaded, river-berating, caressmiling-
universes in a three-palm.
mantranting priests, born-grown-died
and vapourised again,
recognised the cyclic vision of being and nonbeing-
contemprying sages, all of us.
filling empty pages,
shivering with the icicles of birth that will,
in the end, puncture life away,
in the aggloomeration of joyous dark.
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