religion becomes its chorus, if
judgement is suspended, the investigation is scientific—finding its fever, vault,
and frustration.
i wasn’t correct in my innovation,
miles treaded to get closer, with a genius or three watching. sweet animation,
such cartoon banter, trying to uplift integrity.
the believing brains are steady or
unsteady; the systematic doubters are sane or insane; the zealot is most
troublesome.
too much rushing. too much to
assert. most are just as eager.
the bondage of the feeling, the
remorse in the action, found affected more than credited.
a day or two, more is too much,
most ask pain to vanish—until pain becomes a modality.
the inner witness, the resilient
witness, documents each element.
many songbirds harp freely, upon
senses, and poetic frenzy, flight, and existence.
voices at combat, nothing critical,
just overseeing debates; some core reality, on a Buddhist Island.
each sentence is for an element,
some component, more critical than encouraging. to champion the great exterior,
those lakes inside, the one big ship.
as into mystic woes, upon mystic
skies, aside mystic puzzles; the interior massacre, in order to arise, growing
at a rapid pace; intelligence splattered, humans made tragic, or teenagers
finding grace.
such writhing is Madagascar. such
combat in Los Angeles. codes of conduct depend on classes of participants.
the melic ambition, the scores of
sacrifices, those at war to breathe—wrestling with higher components. such are
in elevated arenas. we must tackle the lion.
the travesty of the most beautiful
element afforded us—Love. we seem to get it right—only with practice—or a fear
of losing inheritance.
