Hey
love; as appalled by humans, striking at eternity! We live in havens, catered
to by preference, at tears with realities—that music of souls, as everso close,
at pressures to live. I spied a magpie, and chorused a songbird, at arms that
reach of energies; to settle his speech, or calm his nerves, at woes our
predicament; as uttered rarely, this voice in chimes, to register at such an
octave: that valley of fireflies; that cadence of desert bees; those bells
ringing hysteria. Our cities are anguished, fighting, sitting stillness, while
sages relish in utter silence: this motion of souls, centered at chaos,
planting a psychic tree; with minds adrift, as spacial as wilderness, affected
by this hour of humanities. It breaks this way, that sudden discernment, that
christic epiphany; where swans flourish, in velvet moons, as to appear to
mirrors; that deep epiphany, tied to intuition, revving our Tao that midnight;
as dying gently, this endless cycle, at faces with mortality; those inner
souls, to whisper of sorrows, while flushed our purple rain. I’ll give us life,
as sifting life, this sickle to souls as volume: that turn of hearts, amazed it
didn’t die, while mocking something holy; this curse of men, living carnal
charms, while dying carnal charms. I love a swan, this mission of doves, at
sway through skies this flitting flame—our lambent minds, as candent metals,
glowing in white heat—that space of spiders, trickling by reign, this visage of
inner cadence; to churn for life, this rich effect, where water washes a weary
soul. I’ve spoken my light, at plural turns, while admitted into a spiritual
secret—to impart to swans, this thing they found, where others are watching
closely; to churn by chance, as to have lived their lives, at woes that others
seek differently; but less that darkness, as more this lightness, as buried in
meekness: this place of oozing, dripping into crevices, this climb by mountains
our hearts; to drift by gusts, scudding through glaciers, charmed by glance
this frowardness; to laugh hysteria, as missing roots, to discover by chance
something ugly—as living within, to speak through souls, where valleys become a
rich oasis: this space my love, your pearly soul, at fires such greatness—while
moved with time, a hint of firebrand, concerned by rights our reality.
