It’s
written in DNA, this life of floating, a need to fix trauma; even theirs, and
more
for yours, a mind for mines. I drift like motion, settled in stillness, to
feel
you rise. We die with great care, taken to fires, a lagoon of sulfur. I edge
a
cliff, a parachute mind, to drop for abyss. Its music madness, for living
sadness,
to harness for joys. What to give!;
dragging woes, a heart for chains?
We
spin to feel, to feel for deaths, a breath come fractions. Its cogitation,
strips
of attrition, plus a contrite soul. Why add to hell?; fully for sorrows, to
borrow
bliss! Its grave a nightmare, to flood a psyche, reaching for images. I
felt
to cringe, to feel for insights, and pause a smile. Strike a pose, a mile of
mirrors,
reflected in laughs. I cry for something joy, to mourn for something
sad,
to hook a roof. Lights to vanish, and souls to crash, to teach more love. The
tone
is somber, to anchor for reason, a bit different than pathos. I live your
heart,
a spark a second, featured in silence; and more to speak, a cadence soft, to
blare
a cello. I went for years, to travel a cave, where trauma dwells. Its wisdom
for
hells, to drum and feign, pencil to paper; and never could, unless a test, to
scream
for rage; and more for should, to prove a point, and damn the ink
drippings.
I see it daily, a person content, to share for anger; but not for self, a
subtle
stigma, to claim a problem; so earth to sky, and sky to heart, to please but
one. Is it clear, a conscious awake, as
deliberate as cooking? I ask and flee,
to
feel for answers, driven where many sleep; for pain is motion, a want to
slumber,
where art is ticking; so share for souls, a need for healing, adrift the rain.
