It’s Been Days of Warfare

We imagine love, this warmth for drifting, held hostage by wisdom. It shouldn’t be—this thing of fools, as to live such courage; as deciduous tears, this harp of dreams, afraid to confess love; this walk of fools, grounded in confidence, at war with internal righteousness; as finding such jewels, abandoned to the dregs—this vision of mother comatose. We run from images, anything to touch this mind, flavored by a false impression; but I love us so, this mine of wisdom, at tears to let go. It mustn’t be real, as a muse muses, etched by a silent scribe; that this of souls, crying as for freedom, confounded by human behavior. (It’s more a temperament that dictates the approach—where one heals from within, triggered by sudden gestures, while others demand full dissection). I fathom this message, reading into Roger’s, commanded by this zeal to grow; but life is tears, and life is joys, and life are whispers that compel actions; as born this nature, feuding with brains, as to bring us into alignment; that sudden angst, that near dead soul, as radiant as yogic minds; this future of grain, nursed by three, while life is constant education; to think though mire, this lot of souls, corrected by mere reflection; as sighted in malls, as courted on campus, as flooding the church grounds. I must confess, this thing of pain, while admiring this inner maze; as adjusted through struggles, after something richer, at peace with the Jews. It mustn’t be lies—that molded a son, while igniting a centipede—that crawling nature, oblivious to circumstance, while morphing into a thinking serpent; as trails were normal, grounded in mothers, at tears with this need for freedom. I can’t relent—this social contract, albeit, at growth through this hiatus: this future of gems, this mind of wars, as greeted by a verse of vexation: that wealth by curse, this shorn secret, this inner psychiatrist; to see such palms, molding a potter, while hell is waging its force. It couldn’t be real, as to live through times, a friend of tears.