…rain
becomes liberty, such incredible passion, such seconds by freedom: acacia
dreams, upon foreign romance, racing against sensitivities: our remote moon,
our boisterous sun, our envious stars: to need this miracle, to plead this
miracle, while affected nonchalantly: our brave hearts, our valor and chance,
searching sensations: our mental networks, our solemn rituals, while placating
emotion: this alive creature, sudden but lethal, where thoughts consider
connection: at harpoon feelings, something so gentle, or something so
afflicted: our minds spin decisions; we demand our peace-works; where challenge
comes with affections: such gray pavement, such swooping creatures, such
irregular beliefs: to have gentility, to fly through energies, or so charged
our waves become fireballs: but more to feelings, alerted to something
pressing, to silence something awaiting its next visit: such critical eyes,
such rubescent countenance, such humble sorrow: such gait and power, such deep
intimacy, where it’s good for one to disappear: those casual concerns, our
bagels a bit stale, our coffee seeming unimportant: our coming days, our
restless nights, to sudden upon a taste of freedom…. …such dry weather, such humid feelings, to
awaken in sweat: our rabid thoughts, as merely our heater, but something seems
important: a subtle trinket, a vestibule of screams, an ancient emotion: such
ignition, over a cup of tea, nibbling sacred inclinations: our fairer concerns,
at wilderness and wonder, at wandering passions: that old song, those old
feelings, those present dice: while racing slowly, dotting our intuition, to
sudden upon a trinket: such dulcet memories, such lucid emotion, such volumes
of energy…. …some are electrical, but
heavy at heart, our stumbling concerns: our purest sunrise, those American
grasshoppers, or those nighttime crickets: our butterfly dreams, so exclusive,
so terribly relaxing: those dances down patches, our shrubberies so manicured,
our palm trees filled with symbolism: to hear a whisper, to sense a cauldron, sudden
upon inquiry: our gray clouds, our French lilies, made apparent as one
confused: our mindful introjects, as awaiting their return, or just enough time
to rest: such observant music, such intimate joy, at luxury sipping aqua
delights: those silent cages, such rattling silence, or a closet bear….
…it
happens by years, thoughts grow deeper, our projectors grow intensely: our
magnet gems, our richer existence, our interior nostalgia: those simple
delights, while sharing an apple, or sprinkling a lemon: those pomegranate
trees, those ruined garments, our mother’s dismay: as lively creatures, racing
through caves, and forced to make pertinent decisions: that cup of life, that
eschewing miracle, those eschewed feelings: while trekking valleys, such cowboy
instincts, as if galloping to Existence: such rich nectar, our nectarine
thoughts, while sharing in something exegetical: our search for meaning, to
arrive at conclusions, while haunted by epistemology: our fairer days, splayed
by inner hallways, or alarmed by neighboring sirens: this space by rites, this
coming and passing, or such comfortable lies: as Time is shifting, our souls
are aching, and our minds are surprising us: those few essays, or certain
renown, or this need to insist….
I’ve
read life, this intricate intimacy, this fight for clarity: those few roses, so
gifted with chimes, so alluring with persistence: our atypical compositions,
our battles with scars, our dreams as forcing us to awaken: our casual
encounters, while many yearn for affection, where many are churning through
existence: at mind or body, at soul or spirit, or stumbling upon deep
realization: this elegant rose, if but by eternity, if but this space somewhere
deeper: those delicate hands, those soothing intonations, or seated while
reading into Aesthetics: our holiday feelings, our sullen glances, to realize
something is nudging us forward.
