You’re
in flight, love; ever to gain ground, climbing through
branches.
Indeed, soar to outsoar, to teach a nation. Smile
to
face it, the epitome of growth, a riddled ambiance. Its
anarchy,
plus, therapy, a need for antidotes. It’s never them,
but
never us, sorting through chaos. How to fly, to live an
axiom,
filled with candor? It’s culture to culture, love; to
search
for credence, sorely vexed. We venture with love, to
part
illusions, semi-confused. So read for wealth, ask for
arts,
to infer love. It’s hard to surpass, a flowing river, needled
with
angst; so surmise storms, as stealth as eagles, to prepare.
Here’s
a brooch, a sudden ideal, an idyllic perfection; but dream
for
souls, to impassion life, a sense for self. I speak of heart, to
usher
comfort, to chant a moonquake. Indeed for thumps,
but
more for love, to pull for ancients. Feel an imprint, groom
for
spellbound, mourn for idols. Chisel through silence, a
moment
to breathe, as tangible as chambers. Nights are calm,
to
structure thunder, a flux of vibrations; but deeper a soul, to
flood a shadow, to drench a dream-wave.
