It was ever a secret, as participating winds, a bit furious at life; those dreams soaring aloft swans, guarded by insecurities; to find us here, as filled with something, searching inheritance: this battle of souls, filtered by insanities, while feeling so normal. It’s always them, this space of errors, as to ruin hearts; that earth we dwell, a cauldron to a temple, a bit far as remote; this distant island, a gear made testy, peering at grim-reapers. I know your name, this ocean of doves, while blessed this texture; that narrow road, so hard to find, but a threshing to souls.
I can’t but wonder, this cave beneath caves, that place you dwell; this trespass, neither passive nor aggressive, but mere this essence. I’m losing ganders, while surging as spirits, your souls as so concerned. We feel secluded, while searching crevices—this thing of concentration; wherewith, are powers, this field of Namaste, this world of devotion; to paint a canvas, as years of memoirs, those truths we dare not utter. We run forever, sitting at stillness, afloat this mental realm; while staring at sadness, this light of elation, to greet such love with care.
We fly through moods, sudden upon change—a rocket in orbit; to custom habits, to custom smiles, our bodies enduring eternity; to pilfer happiness, as building a fortress, but subject to sensitivities; as something royal, to feel with ease, this life as mental crystals. We laugh to know it, this inner rubric, so delicate to touch; where life is moods, while altered by minds, this casual affair—that thing of testing, that intricate maze, a fire, a storm, a sword of ice.
