We
give it life
to
touch your soul
deep
inside the soils
our
roots grow.
We
live it for dreams, a fairytale, fleeing and sculpting
reality.
I love you, the deepest illusion, to whittle oak.
Our
root is war, a nomad’s life, a lux of fusions; and
never
a light, and ever a light, as clever as hidden rites.
I
found you, living a creek, a nomad’s infusion. You
spoke
of waves, to flinch a soul, spinning through rapture.
You
spoke with maya, beneath an awn, and
spiders watched.
You
wrestled facts, a thought to flee, where maya
sails.
I
love you, a broken fount, the twilight of mind; even a zone,
a
string of hearts, channeled through organs. It’s torn
debates,
and fragile gates, unborn to relate. We can’t
escape,
an inner feature, to traipse a flame; and more to
life,
a filtered rain; and more to life, a thriving grain. I’m
sore
infused, to chase for grey, a bit for bruised; and there
for
gaze, a deep enchant, a feature of mind; and there for law,
is
maya’s throne, a deep affect. I love
you more, where two
are
paired, for math and maze;
and
more to grow, a dungeon
cell,
to find a mirror.
Dearest Illusion,
I find for parts, a
shattered dream, a path of phases.
Its firebrand, a thirst
to quench, and love is wanting.
We paint for fountains, a
skeptic lot, asearch for
truths; but sheer
deceit, in every word, a fleck of
light. Oh illusion, for how to win,
favored in a forest; for life
is lies, a born design, and
insecure. I love you like muffins,
grinning pain, and sinning caves. I
see you like joy, sore
amazed, for scratching scenes. Oh
for mercy, a sight unseen,
a fever for souls. We seem aloof, as
close as flesh, to sift a
mind. I’m dearly slain, for root and
name, plus an hour of
truths.
The fields a storm, for chi and rain, and ever a mountain. I
sighed
to hear it, a feather eyelet, a spiral of dreams. You portrait
perfect,
as fair as thoughts, racing through visions; and how to touch,
a
waking soul, pictured in gestures. Oh for days, and flaming sleet, a
vault
of anger; for much control, a silent ache, a fool’s bouquet.
I love you like flame,
digging deeper, to act blasé; but
oh for years, peering
closely, for sound and cries. We
color lightly, for
sprinkled truths, dreaming for more.
Indeed for love, and
velvet highs, and iron grays.
