So Many Channels Before Joy

We need love; more of what we can’t feel, stranded in deserts;

but we’re breaking free, where shackles perish, and souls fly

gently. So tell of a time, when pain crushed ambition, and love

was but a wish, fettered to fear and inhibition. But wings

spread, dearly the winds, agaze a zone, christened to soar. I

see a star, birthing laughs, where souls and minds profit from

osmosis. Indeed, a pier is fraught with chains—and joy is

struggling—ever to knit a wound, and ever to float a dream;

for we died so young, afraid to speak, accustomed to trauma—

and pain was normal. To feel lightened, was tear and strife,

where guilt plunged a soul. So we fumble for joy, where sorrow

is free, and fathers perish softly. But love seeps and fractures

pain, where mirrors speak of Lotus Land. I see us there, filming

petals, and life is free and flowing, and time is friend and

family. So drift and love, and float and fly, for cosmic cheer—

stifles pain.