You surprise me when you stand inside. I know it’s a message; it seems vague; it feels uncertain. I was with desert when you rained in. Trees were planted in that soil. The garden is filled with petals. We keep palming sky—becoming weather. Nothing has unsilenced the contempt, aside for elements and motion. You were with ice—a blackhole. I measure how it appears—fraught by confusion, refusing what comes, for it feels askew. The mind and its universes; the allegory of a cave. Plainly opposite of what’s expected. Rough patches. Railroad trains. Pools neglected and filled with algae. Old plastic tubes filled with part air. To move a snail. To pick it up. To look at it as an entity. Many are dreaming about closure. Many more are creating satisfaction, as it drifts. I haven’t changed my mind—in saying, redundance can come with nuance. A man to his hobbies. A woman to her masteries. It means so much to be addressed with kindness, if paying attention. With music in waves, causes art and distraction; with terrors come appreciation—with love comes motivation. I’ve let some ideals whisper away, others have vanished. It’s not in my horizon—a soul blessed and cursed. We’ve read it. We can see it. Prophecy is multivalent.
I never understood you until you became vocal: times with tears. I never unsilenced you. Such a humble paradox. To watch as days became fragmented, where wraiths roam. I never sounded out a syllable until we met. I never read that way. I do not hear what I see. And the world is pregnant with pash, born reluctantly, needing more than what we give. Bless the givers! I read only one poem. I saw how phantoms shift. It is so much to walk away from, when given an option. If a person knew the whole story, that soul would be surprised. Poems are complex simplicity, nothing more, nothing less. To speak about a river, its flow and flux, its rhythm and cadence. To till a garden, or palm a sword, to ask if said sword is at the gate. I needed breath. Albeit, it ached, it brought me life. I remember guffaw, rumbling, intention upon what is now upon us. Many will decide. Many more will become eschewed. Those circles will tighten. Indeed, I compliment a person, by becoming that person. I’ll let that truism remain dormant. It was easy to feel for a soul in distress. It was painful to imagine it could have been others. A person is by design a particular makeup. The conglomerate personality can become united with myriad souls.
