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A Few Short Words

Dense Not Thick

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Chameleon

Interpretive

We lay in bed holding hands like main stream otters and drift into sleep. We meet then in dreams where the visage can be hazy but the intents are clear and carry an undercurrent of the day’s rumination. At times our faces are other, garish masquerade or marvellous gall, but only for the objective of the interim. This then is important for the process of understanding purpose, of distilling the chameleonic collation that coalesces in headspace.  Who are our minds at rest. In the morning we wake, in arms or at odds but always together, and pool our experiences.

Guise

Don’t misunderstand, it’s not camouflage, not by far. Chimerical certainly but not sinister or supernatural. Shapeshifter, they call her, but the form is firm, it’s just her visage that shifts to rearrange and exhibit, in elegant honesty, a response to the moment. Such chameleonic skin, ever shifting in a silken rainbow spectrum, is more pure in flux than some solid substances. A diamond matrix with flex and facet, displaying prismatic refraction coupled with incorporation, manifesting minute to minute in minute molecular metamorphosis, a Mandelbrot make up of indefatigable opulence. Neither magic nor myth, she flaunts these truths as flesh.

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