Our Music Becomes Wings

We fettle mirrors, as Lego winds, building immutable fortresses; as carved his life, at wars those routines, fiddling through conditions: that faraway land; as existential islands; this need for children: if but a tour, that core affection—our dreams as letters stippled afar.  I heard a woman living beauty; this extravagant woman; by far a gem, afflux poodle eyes, craving through waterfalls. I sat in stillness, as one to disappear, by voice to return that gaze.  We mourn through smiles, appreciative of keenness, riding our elephants at loneness:—if be it that life, a pail a cute mouse, at souls Gregorian chants: our seasoned woes; this flux our existence; those tales of our justice.  I saw contortions; a crowd of acrobatics; I stood in amazement…for life is artistry, our beige souls, straddled by indecisions; as making one choice, as dedicated our lives, this place of metaphysics—while fevered our mirrors, those deep reflections, to opt by soul our distortions; this existential, flavored with cayenne, those gumbo psychotropics.  I felt a soul; it was darkness that a.m. hour; I pondered souls…this wealth of furry, adrift burgundy clouds, that kindness afforded unbeknownst souls…that cryptic music…those beautiful sins…our arcs melding with compassion.  I tasted Spirit; as fueled by ‘transmitters; wherewith, a sudden thump…to chance affections, while losing affections, peering at innocent betrayals; whereto, our churned realities, this canoe of pragmatics, while living out such paradoxes: our symbols proceeding, this thing of wisdom, our canvases flushed with invisible ink—as letters to form, this biblic missive, our catapults becoming circumspective.  I smelled sorrow, afflux turquoise tears, a bit too acute for remedies; as gifted to nuance, this flavor as foreign, a bit too astute that mawkish sting.  We perish to live; we live to perish; our in-between is often beautiful: that silver moon; that first kiss; those stirred intensities—or more that simultaneous, as tugged at feelings, while enduring opposites: that song we sung; that flute we built; those waves we channel through guitars.