Malaise

I don’t wish to utter it,

this thing about heaviness.

I’m

torn to measure moments,

studying milieus, quasi-

affected,

listening for me.

Upon a cusp, tottering east

to west, looking for a

settlement!

Malaise takes refuge

a temple, trespassing brooks.

Such a shadow, hovering a

countenance, immortalized

in prose.

It’s a fever’s opposite,

somewhere low, hiding from

neighbors.

I give life a gift. Such insights, screaming for freedom, ever

alive with motion. So mourn a smile, searching for sorrow,

entities working overtime. I captured glimpses of what

was sought, favored by unfavorable dialogues. Something

empyreal is living, a temblor chastising ghosts. I heard

resounding waves, printing a soul, in need of one true

voice. Love is so quilted, layered in psyches, an exotic opus.

It’s intimate with pain, ever rooted in its opposite. What is

holiness without sin, or sin without forgiveness? Life

comes in pairs, where highs compliment lows, unequal

parallels.

Silence would have destroyed us. So young, experiencing

adult complications. Our tumble containing majesty,

wrestling an opposite. It’s a mirror harboring terrors, where

a mind whispers, “Hell.” Yes. Here’s a halo, trekking a

deep abyss, as sublime as ripples in a thought. What have I

given,

sorely affected, drawing tiaras?