Ghetto
wildflowers to perish life collecting woes for antiques
while
trekking tracks terrified. Love, fraught with mistakes
and
lies, to flow from tongues; and we loved our lies; and
we
adored our love. Such for afflatus, to look it up, affected
by
monks, and so unaware of a world tinted in warfare.
Friends
tore hell to strong a storm where souls lived anomalies.
They
wailed, “Aberrant souls,” where koans induced a state
of
blankness, if only but a breath. Se we search temples to
trail
saints, tender through swamps. Treasure is purpose, to
manumit
minds, sorting through sign and symbol. Here’s a
talisman,
to sit upon shelves, to conjure up powers; and here’s
a
trinket to ward off demons that appear through trial and
tribulation.
Such was sought as gesture to rid a road of
insidious
rage; and stars for stargazing for starry-eyed sorrows.
Pain
was vibration, a field of coffins, and a staircase to scars
where
faith soared through fantasts souls. We see it now
screaming,
“Never such rain, and never such grain,” surfing
through
present feuds. We seek it for miracle, and live it for
soul-prints,
tiptoeing the mandolin of existence.
