Every
ripple, a universe of fire, an interrupted kiss; such is beauty, to tackle a
maze, longing for clarity. I see culture, a woman of woes, guiding a nation. I
panic for freedom, a heartbeat chant, as astute as newborns; for grace is
wanting, afraid to embark. It was never a fascination, as much as wonder, to
witness explosions. Wizards speak of alchemy, a sudden transformation, as fluid
as liquids. Is it augury, a vocal smile, looking for but one moment? I ask to
conjure ghosts, an old prose, lingering on a bookshelf. I feel odd, to wrestle
power, an art of illumination. There’s a rune, a magnetic spell, channeled
through psyches. It was ever our truth, unlike sureness, to fill a void. I’m
dreamy-eyed, to misspell symbols, speaking to an unphysical. There’re billows
for clouds, enthused for spirit, to laugh in passing. I sat alone, a frantic
wind, musing a mantic mansion. It’s a fairytale, to touch reality, but a
fortune of sorrows. Souls quake, music fractures, something speaks. There is
lives, a bit undone, running through a future. Is it kismet, to perish, in
every line; a mental torn, ever pensive, feeding a songbird? I ask to conjure
ghosts, at loss for a limpid wave. I’m small my life, reaching for something
grand, enflamed for silence; for it never leaves, to dig deeper, to scrape an
inner self. There we are, an unspent texture, as fulgent as fireworks. I smile
gently, to reap a gift, to greet a feeling. Something is vague, a need to fly,
a chiseled daydream. We stand, fully devoured, roping passions; where we live
to retreat.
