To
change for music athirst for berries ever to challenge fate where hell parted a
sainted soul; and love is Neptune to watch in silence where a wild rose grew
through iron. I mourn for death a woman fractured and churning through
purgatory afraid to forgive her wearied soul. Was it pain; to paint in agony a
child destined for a miracle to alter the ideals of naysayers; or was it love;
to rub in aguish the soul of a young man determined to flee if only to return?
I ask—to swell with motions ever to cyclone through a vat of thoughts ever to
tug upon a spinning cross. Its roads for growth sprinkled from mother’s pouch
to alter essence where a young falcon splits an acorn with emptiness to stumble
upon breathless wings. I love her like it never happened unable to let go of
tomorrow where a psych passes a birthstone. I saw it a wreck to mold into visions
a set of indomitable hinges; and still to fall for dirt ever to grip for earth
a young man grieving a suffering father. The sun has lit an endless wick where
saints commun in honor of souls wailing for mass. I’m there a personality to
participate in prayer where powers are released from countless stars. I love
her like it never happened ever to drop a pint of liquor in hopes to quench a
moment’s thirst. We lived so early to perish so early to love and forget so
early. There’s a picture where eyes are reluctant to search into a tortured
soul; but it was us, floating while screaming through multiple dungeons
pleading for Christmas. I wish her peace to plumage brightness a future wrapped
in white stones where new names morph into reality the best of wailing souls.
