There’s reason to believe in disbelief. There’s perdition
in fields, longer wheat, concerned with stealth. The filth of the land—atop a
project, finding rubies—the world is watching. Rebaptized. Others were
confirmed. We take it seriously. Tapping into esoteria. Sullen soft songs. The
soul was weeping. The piranha is praying, leviathan is watching, the garden is
waiting for occupants; as they appear to souls, lost in wilderness, aches and
pains, the pang of the owl syndrome. As with a soul in labor, the body
convulses, a miracle is born—just a small measure, walking under pinions,
consumed by invisibility. For more purpose, to know purpose, I would soon
kneel, repent for existence, siding with circumstance; many years invested in
it, it has meaning, many are watching with excellence: riches for spirits, cars
and life, the smaller in me—it shouldn’t mean much. With freedom comes challenge.
With change comes negotiation. With gifts come obligation. To have internal
war, trying to win, tugged since the bellybutton.
Willing the wilderness, displeased inside, many
playing UNO. Trips were taken, questions were asked, it was never what was left
as truth. If anything, truth will prevail, the map is flooded—at half a
century, a soul becoming self, the mind frame is different; facing dementia, or
radical features, or freedom to suffer. The flame in the sun, the sunshine in
the moon, to come to a point—everyone disappoints consistence. To indulge
souls, to hold his head up, to have measured his intestines—the penalty of the
underdog, the Watchers, the meaning in the absence. To gaze through a person,
dazing as we do, perfected at sensing the human in us. No clarity involved, the
human desires at times, the wealth of the passion, made into seduction. If
given liberty, void of anguish, an Existentialist would go mad. Picking at a
magazine, sipping coffee, upset, going through chills and shifts—it must be the
dissatisfaction, the longer sentences, while everyone did as selected. If Love
made love, let Love prove righteous, where one never abandons Love: some of us
are being used—and many relish in the misuse.
