…it
becomes this life, such irritability, such charming realities: as built
interior, becomes webbed advice, our souls raving over comforts: such sugar
water, so many hummingbirds, our trails and courage: at something irregular,
seized by humanness, fleeing into mirrors: those landscapes, such perfect reflection,
or something projected: as mirrors stare, while bleeding truths, our ticklish
inhibitions: at tubs for baptism, this silent confession, those boisterous
lungs: so frightening; so outlandish; to witness something so humbling: our
captive minds, seasoned with chili, at casual adherence: to pace with
existence, to love and adore, while sensing something incredible: our needs for
entertainment, this hourly review, while silence suffers anxiety: these inward
lizards, this antsy being, or too
much to reproduce: our daily islands; our shifting realities; at perfection in
many areas…. …so many tasks, so much
responsibility, while worlds are closing closer: at pure science, or pure
religion, or walking a very thin wire: those inrushes racing, our interior
singing, our souls emerging from dungeons: to sense a countenance, to realize
something young, where adulthood should flourish: our expectations, our
indoctrinations, while realization fails to complete us: this magnet life, as
cemented in uneasiness, while we dread this inevitable event: our first
promise, our last horizon, while Jesus Wept: if but to believe, as but to
endeavor, or better, to live each day in service: such dreamy rites, such
fulfilling frustration, at this silent place by courage: to love and adore,
this service in humankind, while building and raising a family: those trenchant
gifts, this probing reality, our daily baptisms…. I know not this web—as explores our souls,
where knights gallop to war: such lemon-grass, so many grasshoppers, such
clumps of existence: our bodies in motion, our minds replete, our days entering
into conflicting feelings: to imagine sameness, where many are driven, while
many are unmotivated: this weekly gamble, our porcelain dice, our interior
compass: to wager our minds, to carry our portion, while flung into our
realities: this small kingdom, our rich advice, while hoping for particular
streams: as lives our souls, manipulating our horizons, while tugging something
too close to heart: this wealth in mindsets, this deep mindfulness, where
existence seems to inject our mirrors: those long pathways, those subtle poses,
this conflict/controversy engulfing beauty: our perceptions, our wires crossed,
while years prior one adored beauty: if but a slight instance, where something
is reversing, while something continues to nudge us forward: this battle with
time, where souls are losing, while something inverted says we’re winning. …I reviewed something—this inner person,
at core intentions: this pleasing interior; this ruffled interior; this
commanding interior: our thoughts combating, our beings tugged, or those few believable souls: such noise there,
such relaxed cadence, such hopes dictated by participation: our future
realities, at states of consciousness, dwelling by interior: while seeking
faithfulness, something so charged by us, while most realities are dependent:
those deep perspectives, as so charming to muse, while most realities are
coddled and cultured….
