Unchained Energy

I feel blasé; whereat, are sensations: I feel them in passing; to image a face, this mystic wonder, to survey our connection; this myth of legends, those pegs of legacies—your eyes forgotten in time; this spacial touching, our mimicry of souls, this familiar place; those dreams come midnight, to die but a breath, rising into energies; where warmth paralyzes, this vacuum afar, as purposed this star-crest well. I visit dungeons, this wealth of wisdom, painting turquoise screams: that magic by sorrows; those blurry lakes; that mirror your reflection. I’m soon a Raja, this mental yogi, experiencing several trials; for minds feel drama, that furnace of guillotines—those silent memories—to peek at turn, this viral sensation, where phantoms become real: our broken wholeness; that drifting moon; that raindrop upon petals; to smoke a clove, peering at images, at tears to confess your glory. Our days are darkened; our souls are awakened; those pains become legendary. I’ve died to heal—this deep contrast, as forged in grayness; to unravel agonies, while feigning normal, a man with too many hang-ups; to wonder for clearance, where all are adversaries, a person afflicted with searching; as never enough, for we never arrive, appeased nearly at moments: that recognition, as pure intuition, to have come to that space; where harmony dwells, to give but a taste—another month of chasing! I found you somber, this instant connection, where all was taken for granted. It becomes normal, to float by chance, arriving in various spaces; where pain is rich, for buildings were forsook, as all was given in a blink; to perish—alive, at woes to explain, fevered by this casual stream; where love is art, as beauty is life, where both flourish with grace. I heard a thought; where all went silent; while energy burrowed into souls. I had a dream, to see your heart, where all became an image: this beautiful cabin; this moral monster; this puff by way of sky-domes. It takes for souls—to arrive by fates—while terrified of closure; for then it begins—this loop by graces—that face by instincts.