Juxtaposed Synchronicity

 in the temple of the unfinished world, a trillion madmen are exhaling theories of the Divinity into the Starry Starry Stars, their eyes shocked into tranquility the strangeness of the curve of space and time and a sudden disbelief that any of this is actually happening, like the moment the treetops begin tickling the face of God in harmonic union,  until the doorbell rings and a faceless stranger answers the door, revealing the sneer of some Convenience Store Poet gathering eyelids  in the cold light of the dawn, where the forest is dividing by zero in the cellular nuclei of gathering dragonflies as if to whisper none of that, none of that, none of that ever happened, whoosh. And the admonition of the Satyrs, eyes shining like the heartbeat of Angels,  in that temple is to burst against the Sky, and disappear into the endless cerebellum where a ghost town of ancient ancestors whose faces have not escaped the basement of that Void, where the Creator is weeping in Blakean Silence, are witnessing the last Londoner dancing on the rooftop until the songs of heaven billow through Silence in an awakening outside of the Body. A neon anemone, the dandelion of antedeluvian endlessness, the white fire of Socrates heart pulsing in a furnace of sunlight as Plato Laughs outside of time, really you shouldn't have. The starlight disappears into the wings of a dolphin, lightning  whiskers of the walrus off the bottom of the discotheque floor, as the Greek Islands reappear in a non linear Yawn. They are curled like philosophy cats inside the Spanish moss, waiting to tell the tales of the Mausoleum Before Birth, where the strange carriage  arrived as if driven by some desert prophet straight into the Maternity Ward where the nurses a singing a song of endless juxtaposed synchronicities.