I was in passing, upon a late evening, a subtle grin. I was with you AM hours, the room was silent. I was thinking of what I mentioned, feeling cursed, wondering how you spend your days. I sense argumentation; I hear sky syllables; they say you’re a koan—a legacy aside an empire, a kingdom inside of holiness, a million issues. I heard you’re married, most would cougar, or lion, I retreat. So, we presume energies, we assume souls, we know there’s a core self; what if two combined, always drifting into each other, so far removed, and too darn close; else a man is wild, strange ideas, ruminating over an illusion. I was moving in sights, visions of arts, aesthetic nightmares—the clove in sin, to weave a beginning, to ache in script. I heard you have a child—the sun is high is clouds, a feeling to make it difficult: touched in spirit, forbidden from scripture, reigning in psyches the abuse. I’ve a way in this light, gifted with my problems, laughing at how invisibility hurts. We see in time—what separates souls and animals, with many desiring to feel something. Aging with love—means being secure with the race ceasing. A wild dice game, hats off to the winners, may God continue to show favor.
