Late in the works, motion moves, silence remains
vocal. To have lived like aliens, detached from self, wrestling perceptional
madness. And Love was aching, saying goodbye, laughing under tears. A man with
wilderness, an afflatus soul, angered under submission. I have loved in
absence, glory at its rising, sunshine falling. It was magnificent, by hurting
terror, afraid to love on levels; grogged those years, making musicality,
walking through mirrors, seeing dear reflections. What made you? some creative
creature!
To learn rhetoric, to debate essence, eating by a heat
lamp. It was horrible where it ended,
terrific in its sprouts, a palm full of hopes & dreams.
A most charming soul, to have everything you desire,
to have won excellence.
I lose a part of you, in gaining the pain of woes,
adrift in one incomplete poem.
