Psychic

This brain of physics, to touch heart-space, while tearing through galaxies; wherewith, this buoyant chi, as reaching science, through minds eternal; to know your name, threshing cosmic energy, so far afield this vision. We open dungeons, and lock cages, meshing through souls this yoga; this river of therapy, charged as arcs, revving through psychic physics; as forever this dream, dripping in metaphysics, knowing through feeling this space. We knit hearts, some type religion, moving through seas our stillness: living inwardly; exposed outwardly; this intimate type of leisure; to see your face, speckled with eternity, every freckle a dimension; as cosmic voices, uttered in silence, our whispers a wave of kinetics; as born this light, reaching for diamonds, to pull our souls into frenzy: this remarkable chase; this awaited arrival; those seconds fretting your chi; as being with error, while to worry of screams, our legends secrets filling our space. We knew his name, purposed in this sphere, this nature of cobblestones. We mustn’t retreat, as far too involved, sensing something sacred; this force of postures, as inner guidance, this deliberate infusion; to speak of dreams, sitting in solace—your heart to enter minds; that rabid thump, this fraction of fey, this thing given through souls: our inner person; that inner voice; this cosmic seduction;—to morph with gods, to sing with goddesses, to soar through mindstuff—this channel through mindcaves, filtered in soulprints, our essence floating in waves. It mustn’t be loneness, and it couldn’t be powerless, this vessel of angers—as threshed through love, striving through darkness, this inverted light; that deficit of souls, as something through yin to yang, while rescued through hearts; to capture essence, pushing through temples, this needed intrusion. We speak it aloud; we charge it with lives; we live it with rubies.