butterfly crystals of "Oz"

 

 what prism will you leave behind
 stashed in a tattered miniature  probe
 beneath the window of your wisdom
 
 Do you ever unplug your sentient mind
 of trepidation
 
 was you who left yourself on the parlor
 stage of neverending stories placed
 on a thoroughfare to nowhere
 
 we watch you even now
 in clear-cut frames
 Playing with the
 seasons of the solstice
 striving not to remember the time
 when we were complete
 within the paradise of All That Is
 whereas now within the me of thee
 you deny yourself that place
 and this space exists as a mere
 crystal memory
 plugged into
 morphic fields and its
 frequency receptical of old codes
 
~end transmission ~stardate~OZ~