Dance of dahlias, flow of zephyrs, angelica of souls;
to perish, becoming soil, planted unto resurrection;
most forbidden of spirits, most alive in spirits, abandoned to self, silence & arts;
so cryptic, so captivating, to adore life, pores in roses;
a cure as it winks, knowing by lights, to have curse, value, & insanity.
Too close to sustain rapture, too afar to claim helium, so middle field, deep passionate anxieties.
To ignore self, to disappear in self, so short lived.
Dance of dahlias, upon a halcyon of hills, blueberries growing rapidly.
(A dear anguish in man, to need what destroys him, in excellence, to sense life has excellence.)
Motion as she wafts, whelming ladybugs, swarming across plains:
To have been an ingredient, to have come across circles, to witness in self, many particles:
No dearer gesticulation, for souls to assert, for children to partake of music, ice chilled fires.
