In My Freedom Is My Love

In my freedom is my inmost love. In ebbs and flows 

Time turns and unturns, sickles are devoid and nonexistent,

Bare, barren, bleak, unimpregnnated, and spifflicated on the canvas of unfastened landscape, time moves everywhere down the slender minutes and slimline of glazed pages. 

Time exists and is extinct, extinction of time is freedom, freedom from the derelict past, 

In time creation live and die, in time creatures come and go, 

Like the sinuous and meandering flow,

And a time for conjugal love and philia 

And a time for conjugation and separation 

And a time for coition and birth, 

And a time to survive and live before taking off mangled and lacerated clothes 

In my love is my innermost freedom. In movement time creates and re-creates, 

Upon the glimmering waves of white seas,  

Languorous and lousy sleep in the moon blanched light,

Jagged and ragged in the constrictive and convoluted quietness,

Immediate rustling and clattering in the deep cabin of recondite sea 

And profound time everywhere...In the dark and deep-sea the flimsy light emits through the hazy and sultry time 

The primeval night in the white time 

Twittering seagulls and glorious day...

The time is perpetual in the world of impeccable love

Coming on edge of pellucid and crystalline rain-drops, 

Come close to the luculent eyes, clasp the buckled love, and breathe it before coming to an end,

The stillness of time is love, total freedom, the freedom of the unknown 

And blue light into the calm and poised Sea...