To
witness pain…and this is love…the woman he holds. It crushes a segment, to seek
for solace, lost and spinning. I sip for grapes, a small escape, to feel
intensely; but more to love, to give a soul, as warm as liquor. Oh the music,
to push it forward, reciting psalms. It’s more the forties, and less the thirties,
to read for both. I love for Romans, to read Sirach, to study Wisdom Books. The
art is jasmine, and more jasper, to feel for jasmine; for pain is rich, to
kindle a flame, to carry Ecclesiastes. I started early, to filter journeys,
afraid of failing; and more to faith, to fail and rise, through ancient chants.
The heart is reigning, if but a moment, to reach a daughter. I love her
smiling, and ever winds, to stress a message. We die dearly, the Gospel of
Mark, to grasp a notion; and less for rain, to cherish a candle, to love for
more. The sea is rising, the ships are tossing, and love is crying; but "Be of
faith; It is only I”; to structure Peter. I know for agony, when called to
feel, to skate emotions; and love be free, a bit for tipsy, to ponder Smith;
and why for her, a bending breeze, to grip the flames. I reckon sorrow, fraught
with joys, to shift disposition; in which the words, as grim as love; to pardon
infraction. It’s numbing aches, the moment of pleasure, to witness a baby girl.
I know for hate, but God is good, despite the secrets. We dwell like winter, to
hold a grudge, and dying softly. What for earth, the birth of moments, to feel
for moments. Was it all death, a channel fantastic, as twisted as perfect? I
perish lightly, the call of God, to ask release; but more for pain, and teary
eyes, to grind immortal. I passed a lung, and lost a liver, to ponder a name;
and dear to God, I never could, to hate her life. Its hell and grains, bent for
stupid, to ask for love. Was it us, to turn for death, spent on forgiveness?
