The
garden is filled with daisies, sweet beauty, symbol of the other land.
Outspoken heart, inclusive we imagine, when arcs awaken. Certain imperfection,
rejected before approached, so quixotic over seeking; once by delivery, some
tale untold, like a soul lost in Rome. Souls are reaching, it was pleasure to
announce survival, it was pain to re-announce poverty. Attempting to sail,
aside a whale, unrealized, a spirit would carry said whale … into a room,
laughing at his privilege, disputing gray skies; so bright the encouragement,
so unique the pride, made into one part invisible … molded sullen over
actuality, given courage by example, days over mountains, nights overseas. The
Great Contradiction—the reason a soul will pause—fueled by imperceptibility. So
hectic the charm. So kind the unsteady arm. So crazed the polarity. And the
heart is under construction, some demolition work, salvaged and rebuilt.
