I AM A REVOLUTION

I am a revolution, set to reject the metric of their goosestepping panopticons,

reliquary feet tracing the warrior's heart,

on the underpinning's reliquary objectivity.

Hearts fall from distancing vetting of their exclusivity,

altruistically brought to the memory of a wind chime's consequence,

falling into the rhythm of the march.

We remember the places between a pulse and the flow of time,

where timeless synchronicities capture the aeon

and wrestle it from just transcending the instant.

I cannot remember the time the dream ended,

It was as if I was dreaming of dreaming,

In a dream of layers of a dream that was infinite.

I fall into the reliquary remnant of the iconoclastic,

catering to the confusions of a semiotician's will,

reminding us that the era is made of ruins, and monuments who overlap the instant.

I fall into trance, a fever,

I remember you,

here and now,

with or without you,

I am a revolution.

Poem and image © 2016 Peter Kaleb Theodoropoulos aka Rockwell Wilder