Why
for this death; What did I do; and Where is my acquittal? I ask—subduing pain, to claim this victory.
Her eyes are purple, hidden beneath
the brown, to live a royal life. I
die in her honor, the rage of humility, standing at the lakes. The hills are flooded, to witness this
night, followed by three shadows. We
live integrity, to wonder of outcasts, to see the reasons shake.
How to shatter it: the long intrusions,
the present deaths, the early persecutions? I answer in rites—the onus of
prayer, to travel so deeply; and there we are, an inner volt, pushing without
touching; but more to love, a golden swan, to carry the skies; where angels
flourish, and cherubims cry; but back to earth, that constant barrage, flaming
through souls, to tug the inner reigns. I couldn’t for lots, to infuse fallacies,
bawling through silent hours; for shadows vanish, to feel alone—to reach for
palms. I hear her arms, to glide her
hands, gripping from a distance; and there is life, a mystic’s mirror, as
esoteric as hidden trespass. The
children thrive, to feel for life, to ignore the aftermath; and we pardon
souls, to see for growth, the wheels of intellect.
I wait to hear it, the realms of insight,
that kingdom of inventions; where gods welcome love—and the goddess welcomes
light, to deeply take courage. Its
feel and be free, as opposed to hiding—from the window’s reflection. There was once a man—that ran from
mirrors, where the mirrors became internal.
It’s truly a journey, to finally break free, where infractions are a
mile’s length. I never would, if only
this accord, to place for reasons: this inner challenge, these vocal scars, the
heights of disharmony.
