We
need adventure, through valleys for truths—this endless search: to chase
phantoms, alert to nuances, that feeling through correlations; as born
fumbling, seeking this country, while driven for purpose. We know delusions, to
pardon our souls, a bit weary of this enterprise; where knowledge inverts, as
becoming spiritual, to languish at times through distress: those apparitions,
flinging furniture, to feel something otherworldly—as losing time, to impart a
ruby—so many years at thoughts. We live illusions, those partial realities,
while misconstrued: that round of torments, seeing without speaking, to settle
for private thoughts; that fear of nature, abandoned to meadows, at converse
with owls; this wooing of chaos, this friend of literature, this want for
correlations: that two plus two; that square circle; that impossible voyage; to
see as sages, this slanted alley, as brains lose to gain those subtle insights.
Particles become a fortress—this justification, for journeying into forests at flames
through meditation; to sense distraction, our minds at tensions, while pursuing
impossible huts: this sought after challenge, defeated at turns, while angles
lose their roots; to become ingenious, aside from breathing—our hearts wild
through adventures; while shaping comforts, this immortal chase, to vanish with
days those journeys; as seeking without targets, this mystery of entities,
while chiseling correlations: that inner trombone, resounding through galaxies,
where truths sprinkle pebbles. At nights this rising, this moon of invites,
where subtle minds gaze into histories: that telic art, that purposed shadow,
that room as mere a table; to wrestle with form, or to examine self, while
correlations become this high road; this place of scholars, or this young
savant, or more, this aged seer; where truths are discovered, beginning with
sciences, as one is chased by phantoms; those sacred times, where reality
changed, as to introduce something elusive; this space of souls, that eternal
pace, to experience nuances through spacial features: at woes to capture—this
mystic device, while gathering inner proves: that languid speech; that trodden
trail; that life he didn’t choose.
