At The Gate

Plant for a moment to reexamine the necessities involved in the healthy growth of roots

This time, magnify. Do it intently and correctly.
Learn from the earth how to trust the silence and consistently produce the objective and enduring
Unveil your new arrhythmical chant sang correctly out of tune and unaware of anything but the lava at the center
The fucking ageless one
The song your children will have to grow up with
The rap they’ll have to skip when jumping rope amidst the nightscreams and daylight inventions in media dreams
Study and indulge in the neck deep science outside of the accepted cellular graphics to hopefully lift and turn the grid
Be bled of wishful thinking and the seemingly helpful fluctuations of convictions not forgotten
They thoughtlessly burn in front of you
Mark time and wait inside your (not the word) soul
It is so apparent, right there in front of your
hopefully secular conditioned self
Plan for the transplantation and find the place it died
The reeking ultra burn, the frightening fertile ground
It will come, wait in it, second by second
Close your eyes
Accept the opposite of where it lies
Allow a sad and soft re-creation
Draw the lines, ponder the holy rocks, doodle on dirty napkins, throw bones and coins against the walls
Challenge and urinate on the paths that the genuine others followed for a while to locate every supposedly invisible tangent
Try to respect the surprise when it arrives
Dig in
You’ve only to wait.

K. Roberti