Such
an hour’s ritual, a vest to open, stirring into dreams; a bit bemused, this
amazing light, featured in a wave; as graves to stars, or stars to graves—so
many years this turmoil; to love this meter, this inner twine, this jute of a
thousand faces; as born to deaths, this outward Eden, for one a beast to earth;
where a baby wails, while one is silent, to exit Paradise. We cry aloofly, as
distant phantoms, this craving for comforts; wherewith, are values, this lavish
instinct, hereby, to strangle the cynic. We perish as slaves, to have for one
nun—this voice pushing concrete. Its abstract ink, as cherished in vines, as
cultured as pruned souls; to laugh the itch, this pinch of violence, displayed
in feyic tones. I love a swan, this inward gear, as to condition his actions;
this tension-flame, alive a dream—raging into thrumming arts; as one for
visions, to evade this curse—this essence found in Scripture. I find for souls,
our walks of skeletons—that ritual of cemeteries; to stir a bolt, as one
unscrewed, to pour forth into a black-dungeon. We scream at tar, as loving this
life, but confused daily. It’s, hereto, a scream, to finally arrive, as one
slanted from pressures; for mourning is light, the bank’s contrition, as
drawing equity; to stir a grain, to harness a root, as indeed to sever a
growth. I see her swimming, from ocean to shore, hair as curly as the deepest twirls.
It couldn’t be fair, to die as pearls, as to live as diamonds; but this is
life, this grand in-between, where parents ruin innocence. Our days are young,
where nights are visions, alive in a sudden instance; to feel this pleat, or
rather this thumb, or to glow as fiery souls. It mustn’t be life—to magnify
sorrow, immersed in a slew of proclamations; where death is feeble, for the
love of a swan, as knowing our outcome. I try to fathom, this torn adventure,
where hatred is a foreign fugitive; to outrun earth, as challenged this night,
where the two are one: this velvet star, this vivid angst, a woman as this
child of a soul; and ever this art, this beating sky, infused by a thousand
faces.
