It
puzzles more, the sheer design, to love with wings. We journey
a
cave, as brave as monks, chanting in tenor. Our violins—to
orchestra
life, falling for rising; to form a teardrop, as bold as thunder,
to
shatter a cello. I watch to wonder, to whisk wildly, a wheel of
wires.
The heart is koan, to share for secrets, and ever a mystery. We
pair
like stockings, and misunderstood, as feral as ferrets. We love
with
vision, to claim for blindly, as vigil as owls. I kiss a spine, and
pop
a cork, to rescue dreams. We soar like eagles, to rest like asps,
a
pair of jaguars. Ours is cryptic, a privy language, to strive for more.
They
never heard—a storm of verbs, to pierce a chakra. It’s subtle
flights,
for midnight blues, gazing at red ribbons. We laugh—to play
pretend,
to sculpt a moment; where something unsaid, disrupts the
soul;
in which is strife, a second to mend, to court the right verbs.
We
laugh—to shed pretend, flicking through channels; where life
is
anguish, in foreign countries, both far and near. The laughs are
halted,
where nouns ensue, to unravel the chaos.
