A
chantress morphed. A bedlight shattered. A vision fell.
I
awoke, to phone heaven, an inner God. We chimed, to
awash
the grey, to filter for ‘physics. It’s something beige,
a
meta-tour, where chi lives. It’s not
emoted, a type of
opera—for
angelic flights. I felt agog, to ream
a soul, to
fathom
preachers. Ember stirred—a skeptic breath, to mourn
professors.
I held science, to vet for light, a bit afflux. How
to
censure, a lucid dream, to ponder Freud? I left self, an
inmost
tour, as vibrant as tulips. It couldn’t be, a snail’s
life,
to circle a garden.
Do
unveil, oh mystic star, induce a rapture; for lights are
flashing,
a vacant full, to stir fatigue. Status is grand, a land
of
favors, to seem secure; but deep a liver, to caution science,
to
map a yogi. We chimed it purple, a royal future, an inner
God.
Its florid grass, a subtle imprint, a thirst for knowledge;
for
feral a thought, to feel complete, lacking spirit. Of course
a
night, a partial slant, to see it give; but more a love, to
strengthen
souls, a vision unraveled.
