…softer
climates, alienation, so public, so secluded: at saffron pastures, staring at
landscapes, adrift a turquoise sky: to imagine winds, racing in form, pausing
by permission: our captured souls, our conscious spirits, listening, remaining,
and flying into insouciance: such deliberate passion, so filled with
uneasiness, found, right there, drifting into fantasy: such condition,
permeating existence, so removed, so insync, wondering about arrival: to come to
places, unbeknownst to reason, while
longing for spaces: our rare sensations, so present, as forgetting skies, while
longing for exactness…. I came by
chance; albeit, future promises; albeit, a dear happenstance: so clingy, so
needy, dependent upon those figures: as close to one, this formula maze, so
wrung, so insistent, so changed: such tender ideals, impeached by existence,
growing awareness…. …it fascinates us, required to maintain, sleepless, but
falling asleep, or tired, but wide awake: this eventual understanding, arriving
in our maze, needing occupation: so inclined by darkness, this fight for
illumination, as knowing goodness
compelled, thereby: our deep deliverance, if deciphered keenly, while carrying
particular hankerings: our souls nudging, our infatuation with aesthetics, our
fever for particular passions: needing to see, needing to listen, so charged by
various activities: as required to move, if but to rest, our minds involved in
building: as itchy creatures, given to movement, at cadence with softer
realities: choosing our cinemas, while curious about channels, to mingle, or
even augment our narrow path: so dear to Light, believing with nuance,
structuring an edifice worthy of our indebtedness: appealing to reason, informed by intelligence, while something is debated endlessly….
…something
effects us, even mentally, while we return for detriment: this phantom affair,
this slanted perception, at such imperceptibility: we require shifts, while
needing shifts, where such shifts impair us:
to become intimate, with this inner self, while feeling odd with this inner
self: our required alternation, those endless sounds, while distressed by such
cadence: our dear return, our island fever, while a bit disappointed: at turns
in self, at waves in reception, while needing this other existence: our
blighted gardens, our catapulted minds, while altered enough to believe as
normal: this world of probability, this office of standards, while habits
become patterns of behavior: so waxed by thoughts, such interior deliberation,
at various requirements….
I
drift through webs, so abashed by behaviors, re-sensed as a sentient soul: I
repent this passage, so threshed by reflection, while gaining modicum
perception: those fruits seemed normal; this reality seemed at essence, while
our world asked about accountability: so silent those skies, unless thunderous
response, while scientifically we debate material: our morning selves, our
cigar selves, at something aloof but needing its participation: such casual misleading,
while distressed about conscious omission, where engagement has lost its
magnetism: so completed, so alienated, so confused concerning identity: while
living in vagueness, or adorned by uncertainty, leaping into this eternal
chase: our souls activated, our years similar, our stars watching….
We
close with questions, while we debate meaning,
where in reality we are too far evolved: this required sentience, if but to
exhale, while present enough to sense movement: this particular essence, those
particular concerns, followed by particular, albeit, silent dreams: at
something leaking, such reticent helium, while aging over decades: our minds
whispering, our deeds as witnesses, while we chase particular titles: those
demanding attributes, as defining existence, where reality cemented comes
through groups: as larger creatures, separated by reason, so turned by insistence: this mental path, this inner
building, those agricultural beginnings.
