I’m
seeing phantoms, this room of illusions, piecing together realities; while deep
at sacrifice, that inner linchpin, crooked from abrasions; to know this life, a
shim to a pit, as to lock misery. I knew your chi, one time at thoughts, as
concentrated seas; to run that depth, at whales for mercy, those tales of
Jonah; to see such eyes, shimmering at chaos—so lost but grounded—afloat a
particle, those violet waves, that cave we crave to sing. I’m done with dying,
this fiction by arts, as to arise an artifact—while living that death, at woes
with kindness, this measured intimacy: that soft gesture, that crying wave,
this want to have more that legacy: our souls as traipsing; our minds at
pasture; those deers staring at our poetry; as mischief souls, to see
restraints, while bending this inner wind. I knew your hand, as to exercise
hearts, thumping for pulling, while yanking those skies—this floret essence,
this maze of flowers, this garland by core this sore of cadence—to chance our
lives, this wretched regret, to garner such compassion. I’m with life that
soul, this lagoon of fire, passing letters to geese—as floating through
feelings, those changing moods, to love you as mercy; this kindled torch, at
woes to live it, abased by thoughts that decency; while silence cries, this
shivering moon, too cold for fires as fire was storming. I saw an image, while
deep those shadows, at peace to cup your palm; that molten furry, as churning
lands, this earth by force our passions; to escape those roots, rushing into
vineyards, at tale to cry that love. It had to form, this formless entity—our
cryptic misguidance; this fabulous feeling, as vague that living, to wonder of
this deep communion; to die so human, those tender tenets, as pondering power:
that strong vessel, as soaring through songs, alive that soul as knitting. I
can’t but feel it, those times at prayer, to pause as seeking a mirror; that
liquid soul, as peeking through eyes, this story by thoughts our illusions; as
bending realities, to see perfection, as to gain to lose through mishaps; that
vocal chi, torn through effusion, as to laugh those tears of girth.
