I
was raised, formed independently, to love, give and climb. It was ever a file,
haunting progress. So many fashioned in illness, preyed upon by life. But life
is loved, where elements are repulsive, given to a gymnasium of repercussions. I
come to you for more, as I come to a fountain. Others perceive life, musing
upon benefits, casting dark forces. But how many blessings, granting acquittal,
falling into a terror-dome. It’s clearly a mind, a conscious mind, opening to
Christ-like realities, dipping into dungeons, fully indulged. So I give you this,
speaking to self: It’s structured by design.
I
feel it, a floating world, grabbing and gripping sanity. So many undulations to
quake a soul and rattle a heart lost in public and found in Scripture. I obeyed
request, avoiding fancy, neck high in curses. How to fault a soul seeking God,
where God showers gifts, to the dismay of fancy? I ask for a purpose,
respecting design, probing a nature. But utter silence, where otherwise, would
hassle a nerve.
Something
is truly askew, dearly elusive, haunting for plaguing minds. I reckon to swim a
centered chant, longing light and silence. Indeed, fully spoken, where
something keen, sees itself. How is time, dearly concretized, perceived by
sun-fall? Instead, a focus is morning, to gaze the grass, petting a neighbor’s
cat. How many cups, probing soul-mates, featuring something familiar? I lied to
you, for rhyme and reason: I do not trust you. One might reply, “It matters
not; so let me do my job.” I empathize and think otherwise; for a light has
dawned, probing a psyche, digging into a gut.
How
do I address you, a thunderstorm of emotions, tethered to a dream? An answer
comes with time, akin to a virgin’s love. So many thoughts, formed in visions,
where a mind conjures a maze. It’s engrained deeply, a net of pits, a gothic
pendulum. I watch and ponder, trekking a sylvan, pausing from ink to oak. I
early apologize, ever a dream, lost and found in a letter; for every bard had a
muse, and every seamstress a garb. But wander a thought, returning with kismet,
drawn towards a sea.
A
thought has gone wrong, where peace is challenged, uploaded with fiction. I
gave you power, unwarranted power, nearly prophetic power. I was famished for
birth, already living, a planet afar. But leave it to karma, a debt paid,
drifting in and out of consciousness. I’ve given, unwilling to give, where
romance has given up a ghost; for something was sculpted, founded in unreality:
Why would I live there?
You
speak of justice, dearly unjust, a puddle of guile. We impassioned life, where
hatred has crept in, a fortress of miscalculations. So I wonder of peace, woven
into a self, as profound as love. Does it live, a brilliant light, received by
a genuine world?
It’s
ever our life, a slight malaise, asearch for more. I need you becomes a test,
even a maze, a ritual of love. Something sad was near, foreshadowed in prayer,
a Gordian-knot. I leave facing the dark, an unspoken light, as fervid as
feelings.
