To suffer what you can’t master—most tolerant soul, at
gates pleading Invisibility; letting go tangibly, cleaving internally, walking
an earthquake. Most seismic of souls, oh gracious caring, winning is a long
road. Putting faith in pledges, dear confessionals, tenets and dreams, needing belief.
Trying with desperation, made wrongness, over smothered egos. Always radiant.
Cosmic binoculars, seeking through realities, uneven at moments. Thinking over wretchedness,
those clouds, so much spice, made into colors—oh iridescence, holding an image,
nursing kindness, so nonchalantly. To grasp sunshine, to knit moon light, to
agitate a star; most lucent flicker, penchants, opaline beauty. If spoken
casually, as if it meant so little, more into romances, devoid of commonsense.
Like medieval religion, so infectious, remaining unsure, like unspeakable
shadows.
