It
was Yahweh his soul, codified in glitter, reaching to push a thump; where
angels dwell, clothed in fire, screaming the adventure; and there you stood, in
garments of white, oils dripping the scalp. I love you dancing, where eczema is
tamed, a flame churning the ember. Its life this rain, to coddle emotions,
rebuking the inner mirror; where time is gentle, if only a moment, to engage
the bleeding lights. Its cryptic candles, for scented vines, scratching
frankincense. I see us dreaming, eyes heavy to blink, for jumping hearts; where
engines rev, at peak performance, a Sensei’s visions. I hate to hate, to cull
for righteous, where some warrant friction; for this is light, to wrestle
snakes, while staring at fangs; but more to rites, for cultic tides, to scribble
on a soul. I felt it thrice, a sound explosion, to stand the same space. I
volt’d twice, to flood a vessel, to know that moment. There’s oh the meaning,
for many stronger, the tides of confession. We must endure, to bungee hearts,
to plant a culture. It’s more the grays, for valley reigns, to achieve
something special; for we rarely know, to speak a voice, dealing with a martial
expert; where strangers pause, to break for walls, to die on our behalf. This
is passion, for Taekwondo, thrust’d through Tai Chi; where vessels learn, the
arts of caves, crisscrossing fingers. I hear you more, to serve a cause,
chatting through inner valves; where torn is love, its torn extent, to cherish
the rituals; in which is silence, to utter vaguely, the treasure of one’s life.
This builds for cords, a threefold bind, to share a secret; in which a curse,
the birth of grays, to aid the misery. Its shooting stars, for gravid hearts,
to stream into a sister.
