She
volts his heart, beaming with electricity, stored in vessels. He sits amazed,
by something impartial, brimming with motive. Such is contrast, this vague difference,
challenging perception; for he wouldn’t ask, and she wouldn’t tell, so they
muse upon phenomenon. Could it ever be, this sect of pain, stirring sympathies;
for something is living, even a force-field, where they feel consciousness? He
writes, and she appears, thrumming internally; she pauses, and there he
appears, nudging a thought. They live as phantoms, disguised in energies, this
converse through distance. Was it her, to turn a heart into a fan; and was it
her, to transfix the inner person? They merged in spirit, where each are
weary—of maintaining such secrets. Oh the art, the zest of life, this zeal the
floods the chakras. It becomes normal—this mystic interaction, where one feels
for comforts. It becomes enchanting, to never know, where a name uttered stirs
vibrations. So they venture—this vast journey, as spiritual allies. He mourns,
and she wails, and the two enter into spirit; to strike through lightning, a
series of volts, to uplift a spiritual friend. It’s quite a mystery, where the
heart is thriving, accustomed by the mind. Is this intelligence: to guide with
focus, as one directing through thoughts, the impact of thunder? I ask—a bit
infused, for believing in the unseen; but what for volts and energy and this
vibrant presence? How to chance upon a friend, in this silent realm, where such
thoughts appear? It’s cryptic in its reality, as this force streaming within,
sparked by travel. We set our root in feeling, even sensations, where we dare
not look to our left or our right. So they stand as stillness, alive in parts,
connected as friends to strangers.
