A rose and erroneous ideas chase me down a narrow corridor.
The path is straight but I am zigzagging.
This pattern across my life is not a sign
I do not need to know about my own loss.

In love and faith
with an eluding face.
My own.
Yours.
Where edges are drawn to contain all this,
eyes flow openly into ether.
Beyond.

Tags: surrealist poetry, surrealism, poetry, poet 9, poet of sound and image Kino, literature, revolution of the mind, map of the universe,