…orphan
eyes, so elated, but a home to exist: casual souls, contingent upon reality, if
such is viable: close to skies, supernal graces, while flung into heart-furies:
such mystic registry, flickering modalities, made captive to waves: electric
currency, afloat a mansion, re-woven but sullen….
…it
comes to life, melancholic limbs, something crawling into focus: at structure,
and seeping, while enveloping persistence: a small lake, a tender routine, while
one is resistant: those anchored mornings, those chirping fragrances, needing
strength, but waning: a quick read, something speaking motivation, where walls
speak distress: a gradual trial, while water hits softly, but worlds smell like
lemon juice: such a slow pace, such a carried mountain, while waiting gently:
where one persists, another surrenders, while both are struggling an inward
fight….
It
comes to combat, our arguing for freedom, even one demanding happiness: to gaze
into windows, to see presents, where kids laugh and play: to mimic intonation,
to embody certain moods, while feeling detached from joy’s property: it seems
awkward, where actions lead to feelings, but something is meditative cries: a
blue earth, a sorrowful lemur, as if something distressed is something lost:
but it watches, we earn modicums of favor, as suddenly one is nurtured by a
good feeling: such raw interior, such a vigil pain, where we investigate
allotments: some are cheerful, where others are even, where, again, others are
at combat: summer is hotter, winter is cooler, and autumn speaks to deciduous
existence: crows and pigeons, songbirds and music, while time becomes
unyielding: it pushes through, it becomes a meal, where mobility is shifted
into segments.
…aflame
by beauty, ablaze with passion, leaving so much to winds: banana bread,
chocolate milk, and strawberry jam: a raspberry feeling, an intangible
reaching, imposed upon by cycles: aesthetic faces, naked truths, and marble
tiles: looking into literature, rereading a favorite paragraph, or composing
soft-heartedly: metaphorical trumpets, cartoon monkeys, or listening to
something inspiring: such sacred existence, when days chime peacefully, as
opposed to consumption: re-dealt to existence, humming like feelings, seated in
stillness and galloping: so patient, investigating shifts, looking into an
amazing riddle: so sad those minutes, so deprived of felicity, while suddenly a
new creature: such dance and art, such clarinet and cymbal, instilling
memories: ablaze an emotion, peering into a neighboring infant, where mother’s
eyes are radiant diamonds: a softer whisper, a broken string, while a kite
floats away: to find that second, so engulfed by that moment—this becomes
existence….
…afar
but near, both static and willow, arranged as human beings: that old flux, this
changing ocean, this new river: our monk wisdom, our illuminating passion, our
surreal moments: inclined to sit stillness, while motion beckons, while
determination demands fire: becoming apathetic, but holding weather, attempting
to care: something tugs, a shift in behavior, where something close has become
metal: our mind-flames, our reaching out, our moods detected and underdressed:
such dependent existence, with so much to give, while rarely received in
lights: as private feelings, reloaded and flying, where many need
encouragement: ambition and ambience, seeming sorcery and magic, while true
caring invites us along their journey….
