Silence
is hectic, an inlet for
secrets,
even water for seekers.
I’m
sunlit, a carton of sorrow,
probing
joy. There’s an
outlet,
a network, a yacht of
psyches.
I vanish, to
reappear,
a Paulic practice.
Love
is deep this way, to
polish
a soul. It’s an anthem,
to
utter faith, to banish pain.
Is
that a fishnet, a group of
fishers,
carving
for souls!
I
invest life, to mimic grace,
a
tactic for woes. Such a
cosmic
chain, a rustic forest,
treading
through valleys. I
live
it torn, a vivid load, heavy
in
gray areas. Unpack a
nightmare,
to groom a soul,
found
for spirit.
So
fair a love,
to
surface broken, frantic for
change.
It’s
therapeutic, to
charge
a soul, trickling seven
tears.
Lights are flashing,
where
karma blinks, soaring
through
a universe. I sought
for
bodhi, to elope a heart,
fraught
with trauma; but couldn’t
see,
for lack of shade, carving
dogwood.
Night was featured,
to
stir a phantom, heavy on a
throttle.
It was all a blur, to tilt
a
page, life dripping into ink;
but
see for what, a darkened
moon,
a stir of hells! I speak a
riddle,
athirst to fly, a must to
perish.
So I strive, through
endless hours, to comb a mine.
