…my
darling, Essence, this mannish orb, this deep dejection: at something
deductive, at a major premise, agonizing, reborn, but phlegmatic, even
listless: brain activity, aphotic positions, where we must confess our
concerns: bright blue banners, teal toned tentacles, or wellic welts wrung hyper:
too much inculcation, not enough deep discussion, where families are most
content with mere presence: a good meal, so hearty in-between, a shower, a
pillow, plus, a mint: too devastating, too insidious, where a patriarch or
matriarch is devoid of proving claims: (I don’t request much, but thinking is
essential, especially, applicable thinking): quartz by intelligence, moganites
by knowledge-base, or silica by wisdom-chains: to exist as responsibly, to take
ownership for actions, to accuse no man without clarity: as a false witness,
protecting something reality has exposed, where treasures are buried in
landmines: so concerned in this, those unchallenging environments, while
rereading soteriology: but life is more, enduring our legacy, speaking,
writing, as reevaluating our childhood reservoirs: such yokes, Love, so
incumbent, Love, a song rising against its sea, Love: so many mishaps,
discouraging existence, where many of us were in error: to exist at life those
years, holding to pure division, where sudden an epiphany…to realize both were
wrong, after giving so much, attempting to return to ground zero: this hard
run, this wrung dynasty, so kissed, so blessed, plus, mother is wonderful: such
errors, devoid of wine, to crumble a corner raging at existence: those wild
whispers, our inmost dungeons, at coffins and graves realizing such
miscalculations: a wasted portion, a challenged life, while hoping to rewind
inveterate feelings: it becomes hell, while thinking correctly, where firm
beliefs have proven concrete: this terrible man, this remarkable brain, so
dangerous, so cursed, but mother wouldn’t go to court: we run towards
righteousness, we run from self-conviction, where reality has shown many
errors: too alive this second, needing something from self, if but to graduate
to another horizon: so artsy, so musical, so electrical: those wings and oils,
those feathers and black tar, or those meanings as long as non-controversial:
this one woman agony, this silent family, while we wonder about those messages:
as never for them, only concerning you, to rise and live, to explore and die,
if but comfort a palm offering water….
It
becomes tarnished, looking and rinsing, attempting to form a solitary thought:
so occupied, respective of a thousand winks, at cures those segments: this
world by desires, this orb by expectations, while we put Eternity into a
stranger’s hands: if but to carry us, if but to redeem us, if but more
altruistic than selfish for us: (I sing for wisdom, I sing for understanding,
and I love a swan for no other reason): maybe personality, maybe individualism,
or maybe to witness you give a speech: so tried by life, so sleepless at webs,
while forced to placate something comfortable with dice: this chanced
existence, those few we love, this game we sit through: if but to flourish, if
but to grab a cloud, if must to resist a murky perspective: our forever claims,
where color is concerned, while we’re sure to behave: those iconoclasts, those
radiant arrows, those condemned to margins: this rainbow family, those
non-contenders, watching, debating, a slap away from our destiny: indeed, for
clarity’s sake: I adore you and fight solitarily for you: others shall live,
indeed, their wonderful activities, while we are pleased never to meet again: (so
rough, such by insistence, but years are double digits, and double digits have
struck terror): those fair tulips, those talkative examples, to realize life
has more to give: a steadfast agenda, a researching friend, while father
remains a captive ideal: where a face churned, so content with absolute truth,
where a few words remained unvetted: our blindness to color, while meditated
upon color, where myriads have warned against and predicted our needs for courage-colors.
