Meet
for gardens, for kindred souls, unspent in volumes. I hear it, and not so
subtle, to resist for growth. Life’s an outlet, for taking courage, a verdant
mind. I chime with phantoms, ever illusions, grounded in personality. Oh for
rites, for latent laughter, a wealth of motions. We muse a lovelight, a bit for
crooked, a torn dynamic; for it pushes, a bit profane, a different chapter.
It’s faithful for self, to sprinkle truths, a nectar for strength. Have we gone
there, somewhere a bridge, leaping for sanity? I ask—sliced in parts, to fiddle
through a ribcage. You’re there, a fleshly anchor, to witness me vanish. I
can’t for flesh, to hawk through fey, a world of songbirds; for hear it
twilight, a bit for heavy, the smoke of robber. What for ash, to sprinkle an
ocean, to touch debris? where something twinkles, a petit glint, for something
steadfast. I called you, to stand an empty room, where essence sailed. You
entered life, to cascade hearts, to sever depression. We gallop a forest, to
trek a desert, thunder to a city. It’s deep azure, for purple eyes, to feel for
souls; for torn a threshold, as bold as pride, a topaz eagle.
I
vet for love, through icy hells, a proof for purgatory. The shadow’s vague, a
bit direct, angered to see us flourish. Such a claim, where change is madness,
a must to fly. We fell asleep, a bit complaisant, to treat life as kitsch. Its
spells to cells, a volt for inner jails, stirring a wizard; but more to Yah, as
fluid as Spirit, an alchemic mind; for death is plural, to conjure ghosts, to
drift with powers. It’s deep for art, a cave of truths, a heart to voice; where
hurt is gray, a type of sureness, for dreamy-eyed bars. I heard mistakes, a
nonphysical charm, to disarm folly; where ‘motion grew, to slay a soul, a
billow of sadness; so more for stories, the sprite of love, a frantic
conversion.
