He
noticed a force
working against the mind.
Its
treachery, a daily wrestling…
they hassle beyond reason.
Its
probability, and broken jars, for shattered souls. He’s
checkered
for grays, a tassel sighted, fallin’ from twilight.
Many
watch, to anticipate pits, drawn on tablets. Every
feat
a triumph, to dance upon marbles, peering into images.
He’s
forest guilt, to compound with interest, searching
for
equity. A home was built, on rock and stone: the shores
were
amazed. We core remorse, for a puppy’s eyes, and deep
obligation.
Feel a parade, for sleeping minds, and empty
motives.
They court a legacy, and needed protection,
sorely
unaware. It’s for serene, a vested map, to manipulate
his
life. The roses are crying, fraught with suspicion; for
days
are vague: waiting for water, pleading for touch. He
wouldn’t
scold, a calling pigeon, nor a barking dog. He
watched
for mirrors, and deep delusions, reaching for
evidence.
Something was him, to speak for occasion, to
wrestle
a force of mind; for they anger souls, an inner cloud,
disguised
as songbirds. He heard a whisper, where veils
were law, knitting
through lungs.
