Soulcaves Unspoken

It’s the majesty of functions, even the grandness, to operate in silence; I give us more, to measure the contours, that closer to epiphanies; to remain a mystery, for some unfiltered, to agitate rivers. We chime like sages, to maintain distance, something akin to suns; where a trance is blank, induced through persons, to transform a countenance; and still for stern, to watch this life, as intent as owls; in which the sights—are recorded in souls, to seep into consciousness.     The world is partial, to certain energies, to favor determination; where drives are inward, and morph outwardly, to sail the hidden chambers.     We encounter pains, to direct energies, and sit in silence; to witness activity, soaring upon thoughts, to touch an ancestor.     We rarely see it; this grand capacity, to reach souls; we merely know it—through subtle clues, through the privacy of channels; that public heartbeat, wrapped in spirit, to morph with chi.     I give us more, to grieve the silence, to befriend the limits; where the edge is light, to further retreats, to embark once again.     It mustn’t be, the rift of souls, to lose such grandness; but this is design, for stricken souls, the measure of miracles; where ritual swarms—the here for now, to meet kindred souls; to find a thread, that ushers the nights, to finally take the stage; in which to see, the blend of cultures, situated around meaning.     I give us more—to wish for comforts—while the soul is enlarged; where experience is love, to tap a reservoir, to nearly return—and chasing the lights, to mold for futures, the passions of the Greats; that inner pulse, to crave the mountains, to chisel the caves; indeed, the mindwaves, to flood the heartcaves, to fountain the soulcaves!

We cried to see it—the rope of our wills, treasured as manifestations; this inner person, to meld with consciousness, for a light, that closer to truths; but it couldn’t be, that miracle mind, to embark upon sheer faith; to see results, to become the dreamcatcher, to interrogate self; where love is gray, a default for black and white, the harvest of old souls.     We saw inwardly, a transformation, to challenge certain thoughts; where tenets changed, to fish for peace, the heart of a silent warrior.     We felt vibrations, some a bit lethal, to find an untruth; in which is madness, even contradiction, to feel for contrasts.     I know for minds, a cryptic glow, to concentrate and change the flow; where children thrive, the fruits and labors, of determined parents.     It couldn’t be—this inner world, peeking through the eyes of birds; whereat are signs, even through crows, to wonder of the following: we live the faith, even objectivity, built upon the subjective; it’s highly personal, beyond a kaleidoscope, shared with a treasured few; but more to yoga, to open for portals, the richest experience; but what for access, a cherished vibe, to enter the chambers; where the walk is wild, to measure the flame, a furnace of refinements; to shift and soar, the outer realms, that closer to unlocking.     It’s meant for minds, even souls, to unravel a heartcave; or more the Spirit, to roam the earth, a city in the psyche.     I give us more, the sights and turns, to unbolt the inner craving; to touch the essence, of something grand, to push a new encounter.     It’s sheer convergence, this sacred moment, a meeting with the Paraclete; so more to surfing, the inner waves, to build through Paradise.