I have
hunted woods or skies or inside those deeper depths. I have searched mirrors or
suffered dejection in order to touch your face. as to feel you while looking
around with but a feeling to claim existence. soil raked a few roots may appear
a softer bell is rung; those persons as naysayers with terror argumentation. it
can’t be ignored but it must be challenge, with error I make my assertion. such
tender silence most are running to concentration others are becoming unspoken.
by horror to find different properties by awe to meet others or by terrific
science to mimic what was explained. sweet examination curtains falling such
darkness a speck of light. we fight for entrance, anything better than this,
while some have what money can buy. so apophatic or richer angst while
most war as not to become apathetic. certain praise for touching humanity.
certain analyses for digging depth. to plumb an abyss as an anxious creature,
while it’s impossible to unalter self. I have been in stillness, I have felt
trespassed, I know what disdain looks like.
I was unmet but I sat in a chair, I talked to a human: as best of
science as scuff of invisibility those memoirs locked in a bank safe. one would
see a person, walking an obscure street, mumbling to herself; where one is
indifferent, another pulls over, grabs a morsel or a dollar amount as to place
it in her palms; another drops a tear, another is remorseful, while still,
another reaches back in her memories. such curt understanding sweet ontic
reality where most speak in meter. an odd place to speak that, but something is
taking place, both reader and writer are learning as it swarms – those swamps
pure marsh while in mud we rarely see beauty. prime example: a man had an irate
mother, she was mean, he forgets those niceties – until thoughts trigger memories,
his eyes a bit moist. by low tenor as unlocking chakras if not to become
haughty. a professor once said – he had many religious experiences – but none
of them matters now. I wrapped mind-parts around that. I counted ashes. but I couldn’t
side with that.
I have haunted
forests or frontiers as rereading authenticity. I have listened to noises,
seated on a curb, watching as nothingness passes by. I have met people where
they knew, never said a word, just unlocked that interior sparkle. I once met a
person. I was under a spell. it remained but silence. too many experiences,
some hold weather, while reflection, honest reflection, denotes something might
have a certain origin. I have known absurdity, as intimate with abjection, with
a fight to function. walls crash down, ceilings sweep with winds, ties come up
missing. I have challenged light, inverted darkness, while seeping into
fantasies. sworn to ethics, such painful ethics, how such pain with something
good?
lakes for
conversation, an antique for memories, or an heirloom meant too little to keep.
trying to scrape memories, trying to efface self, so sweet until it’s sour.
friends dying or mothers at hysteria while fathers close every entrance. such
feeling souls such fretting creatures such damages inside.
I have never asked
but it came to light such steadfast honesty. what have we left, where one is
sincere, this becomes tragic holiness?
