Coda
In the primeval rainforest
Where everything dreams, yet nothing sleeps
In its replenished interior that is the shade of the soul;
Where ancient fires still rage and sputter dead
I sometimes see my own death shapeshift before me
A shining vision of scales patterned in a lambent bronze
In a stream of rays that runs endless as the days
It is a sphinx, lwhich lifts the world upon its back and growls
Its breath a cipher
Its inscrutable eyes spin mandalas that drift and blueshift in
Towards Armageddon
And everywhere I look upon the Sphinx's skin
Memories spin -
They form the formless
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