What
for tortures—the music of life, to sit and cringe;
and
ever this glory, to form a soul, to unravel inhibitions;
for
oh the eyes, to mirror the feelings, to scream with disgust.
It
was ever the once—to seep the depth, to love like rabbits;
but
cry this night, a sightless mongoose, to strike a cobra;
where
shame is shadowed, to live in disgrace, a skeleton of dungeons;
to
live it like vacuums, or even blackholes, this metaphysical residue.
I
found us in a dark place, to summons the skylights, to lose a Pirate’s Victory:
the
jewels, dying in souls, to enhance another’s heart;
for
this is life, to sew where another reaps, to plant another man’s harvest;
but
how to see it—this velvet trance, to traumatize the deepest regions.
We
crave the purple thunder, filled with heartbreaks, to trek the marshlands;
where
a cygnet dwells, the measure of breath, a desert to the skies.
My
warlike swan; the days are greener, to follow the path of peace;
but
how for this thing, the lackness of training, to wrestle the cages?
I
pass a boon:
the
arts are grey, in need of visions, so supply such visions;
else
the heartache, to see the unspoken, and waiting for a leader;
where
she lives deeply, the range of flights, to jostle every thought;
for
this is life, to take the hem, while consulting with history;
so
climb like ants, a little at a time, to finally achieve the goal.
It
wasn’t meant, the here for now, to await the future;
where
troubles linger, because of control, to see the truest nature
—even
the essence, of those we love, to war for sunshine;
but
oh the promise, for there are ways, to accomplish a single goal.
I
laugh with God, to pressure faith, to soon escape
—the
nets and caves, to see potential, that closer to Spirit.
