Barely a Whit

I’m not dreaming, asearch for authenticity, feeling as tears

hush. Dearest swan, pierce sunrays, capture excellence.

Oh a furnace, a raining furnace, reaching stars, ever to

love. I was once impish, a tepid church, agaze a nightmare.

So many tears, dreaming in silence, a muse for something

genuine. If only to falter once! If only to cherish once! as

opposed to fallin’ cliff to cliff, void of a lover’s mercy. I

speak of soul, to visit soul, brimming with brilliant dreams.

I owe reality, an opus for gold, a gem for love. In truth,

I owe more than given, especially a young swan, morphing

through portals. Search a nave, a wellic center, an inner

balance. Draw a faceless body. Write a faceless dream. Be

keen to see, art for art, deeply engrained. Fail not to love,

faceless in such love, healing core to core. Mimic oak, as

sturdy as diamonds, as comforting as an armchair. I’ve

written freely, pausing for each line, musing a palm.

There’s much to give, even a koan, drifting through a

photograph. I ask a circuit to strike ember, infusing our

union. Indeed, walk gently, live heavily, wisdom first,

where play is ever recruited. In life, a fireplace is soothing,

an infinite friend, an ultimate furnace. So cherish

inheritance,

as pleasant as songbirds, seasoned with every sentence.