subtle in words, depicted as gifted,
longer waves to understand; gregarious ghosts, grandiose times, flamboyant
Africa. by an inward rhythm, more at survival, adjudged for appearance.
some try harder—for an accurate
photograph, with nothing left to spare.
it seems irrelevant—those smaller
things—like preferring sour candy; the damage they gave, a soul thawing for
centuries, where souls assess, determine, and jot down findings.
I was told about religion, from one
made of science, it becomes classifications.
(I think about
designs—as a soul struggles—or watches long enough, and finds something to see.
I never tried, after I tried, it seems difficult to execute: a fragile glance,
an unknown cadence, perfection made resentful. I think—to rethink—I didn’t
unveil it: got closer, behavioral physics, left with days of unrest.)
it will be its
hassles, its prizes, its tetras; making correlations, in a clear mind, debating
wings, fires, flames—praying for clarity.
re-slain spirits.
maybe tempests souls. maybe everything is material.
harder waves,
please don’t try, true adjudgment requires divesting biases. maybe it’s doable.
maybe it’s easy. I’ve not been able to rid self of perceptions.
by the pulse,
spinning Tops, fretting the aftermath.
(looking at Numbers—a
person for each soul’s features—to become according to written laws—unbelievable
talent!)
