There’s
a deep gray, floating through winds, creeping upon
suddenly.
Somehow a spark, blended through mystic, a
cryptic
explosion. I lay, focused a beam, mindful of martyrs.
We
spoke silence, mingled words, to soon depart. But life
is
fractions, disguised as mice, yanking upon skies. Tug
gently,
and tug not, for souls flame—often alone. What to
give,
such a brief encounter, where a glance spoke volumes?
But
not a map, to foretell fortune, where eyes pitched
almonds.
I cried not, fully in rain, catering to a disposition.
Something
is altered, a palm of fire, flooding a system. I
wonder
if known, prior to perception, prowling both prose
and
light. It was something immediate, seeping deeply,
rising
into hearts. Wherefrom a fireball, triggering a
monsoon,
deeply inquisitive? I ponder, pit to cave, alive
moment
to moment, grieving towards the next phase.
