Jung’s Red marries Maggie’s blue
And shines in purple’s royal glory –
Like the rich talents of my brothers’ golden hearts:
Solid, malleable, pure, and valuable –
We are: supportive ballasts of joy and guidance –
For our Rolodex recall is fraught with
Isolation’s macabre silence – memories brushed
With strokes of tiny deaths and twisted violence:
Learned mechanisms, intuitive depth,
and their enriched Soul’s balanced mind.
May my entwined heart burrow and
spread wide as Oregon’s Armillaria ostoyae –
(A most”Humongous fungus“) –
A determination reaching unfathomable limits
Expressed through validation’s earnest fondness
Of their immeasurable dimensional distances; And,
May these truths exudes the Truth’s Truth
Upon your still wise heart and ethereal essence –
Because relationships are hard.
Minds’ mercurial pangs congress in
Byzantine conduits vibratory wires,
Magnanimous pulses, electrical signals
Resonate spiritual satiety; currents travel
To delicate temples and zap hollowed hearts
Into autonomous beatings – their dances
Fueled by delight’s atomic splendor of
Self-actualized neuronic charges. And:
We will, and, life does, so, there is no
Turning back; but directions are infinite;
Therefore, your life has one decision – choice.
And, you must know, regardless of Cannon’s
“Suggestive” commitment to persistent
Forward movements’ intransigence:
No matter the matter of your matter,
Or how long you’ve been traveling wrong:
You can always turn around.