Take honesty as a legend
of souls; robust integrity as it appeals to dynasties, we seldom see facts,
unless for measure. I was sitting stillness and she appeared. I write to reach, maybe, the unreachable—maybe
it’s passing limits, striking nerves, if we need from those we want. I’ve
earned rites; sofas on high—power inside—voltage saying, hello! I tried to
ignore myself, ignore those roses, confined to seeing more lavender; many feel
essence, to dream profanity, a little makes us human. I met goodness. It seems
stern. It does what’s right, despite, how it might feel.
I’m in a rare space. Creativity is in abeyance. Those that
will, have heard the battles.
I haven’t in so long, intentional intrusion, but it seems
apropos.
Most often we carry
silence—the heaviest creator, secluded as it wills its nature.
You appear but you speak
a different dialogue. How do I rinse the language?
