Great Mt. Ida - Pears

I am a higher order

Peer below, the symptom stayed

Beneath the threshold of the radar

Quietly growing, undisplayed

Boiling, but never boiling over

With the grace of an unattended child

Along the flanks of great Mt. Ida

Finger painting crimson stills

Of domes constructed by the centaurs

Drawn like moths to light, weak-willed

Boiling but never boiling over

I hear them giggling but I’m blind to the facade

Summit beckons, calling, condescending

I sigh with the force of the fists of a god

Shame, shame

When the sun implodes

'Twil cauterize our bo-bos

Restored to ash

Breeze sweeps away our egos

Through time we’ll gently drift

Scattered in this labyrinth

What we’ve held in our hands

Gone with us, eternally absent

Free!

Take me!