I
feel it like fevers, a fire screaming, soaring through souls.
We
lotus life, and Jordan rivers, living for pirates. I drift a
floating
island, to floor a vacuum, pausing at speed bumps.
It
was never so green, born to hell, plucking the wings of
caterpillars.
I lived it tipsy, a mind to see, mourning for
liquor.
We lived a church, and spoke a lie, a web of silken
guilt.
Its diamond verse, for yogic chants, musing through
Vedas.
So less for gunas, and more for bodhi, spinning for
lights.
Spit
ashore, and bleeding mercy, we trek a palace high. I’m
torn
afloat and streaming time, for never this soul. I hear
it
like tears, a burning whisper, ticking into a heart. We
double
back, to witness plagues a land in turmoil. I feel it
right,
to touch it left a mind to visit roses. So garden soul,
a
wailing cup, speared for glory.
