At souls to touch it, this inner feature, a bit that
fire; at crucial turns, this explosion, as ventured unsteady; to course through
love, as torn apart, made whole that sudden kiss. We live this way, at search
imbalance, as to avoid disruption: that vocal kindness, as if a child, that
tiptoeing adventure. I’ve loved at breaks, semi-distorted, looking upon beauty—to
die that gesture, as resurrection, where arts proved invalid; to hold eternity,
in one glimpse, this glint chasing prose. It takes for courage, to unlock
essence, at times, by unawares; to feel this self, that different touch, while maneuvering
sentences. I held a palm, this baby girl, as she reached eternity. I asked her
name, to see a smile, this moment uncanny. We flower this way, at pressures
that scar, receiving therapy—from but an infant, in tune with souls, while at
tears to confess softness; this listless cell, peering at bars, alone a crowded
vestibule: where words are void; as stars are afar; while vulnerability sits at
a furnace; to kiss as love, that tiny forehead, while a finger is tugged upon.
I’m at hearts this wave, racing in stillness, awakened by membranes; this
feature of woes, as adopted by psychs, where we hide at crucial points. I met a
mirror, and begin to curse, listening to introjects. I met a friend, a total
stranger, and made love. It comes this way, as never again, while I hide from
mirrors: to glance quickly; as never to pause; while something tugs at
resistance; to walk a room, deep in rituals, at souls those knees to bend. I’m
hearing noises, this old house, where ghosts are trailing; to reveal that face,
or to see that feature, as soaring through realities. I must convert it, this
inner flare, at course to witness our fair lady; where days are crucial, as
love is crucial, as not to wait on eternity; instead, to chase, as running
through hallways, peering at floating murals: that inner cry; that floor-lagoon,
those pigeons speaking in tongues; to find this man, this restless spirit, composing
to a mirage. Our halls evaporate, standing near a city, gazing at this
celestial rose; where love would utter, that crucial sound, as one turns in
fear. I’m seeing babies, this part of us, this ticket to immortality; as mere
humans, to disclose facts, where a child ponders as amazed. It becomes life, as
more a gift, to see such love.
