Some
thoughts are grand, where reality is saved, and love
is
velvet upon every door. I chant to you softly, in a low
tempo,
to unlock souls. You’ve come to me, weeping
with
joy, alive my chest-cave. I fall to rise, pulling out
tears,
filled with pneuma. This love is craving, found in
affection,
to hold an oaken wand. It’s ever a miracle, to
sight
a dove, employing pagan rites. What for this life,
but
precious swans, cookies and milk. I drift to settle,
ever
rattled within, cleaving to a vision. It’s a blank
canvas,
where love is splattered, to form an image.
What
to see, but mirrored faces, a time for reflection.
Dig
into earth, to nurture roots, where fertilizer is sprayed.
This
enriches life, to possess deep roots, for longevity.
We
want for more, to crave for more, when more is
depth
a pulse-beat. I speak to seeking, to dwell with self,
to
share with love. Ever this life, fully evolved, staring
into
crystals; and there you sit, spinning yarn, to crochet
a
quilt. This is more for love, and more for life.
