When I put out the light
They all take flight
Even my shadow leaves at night
This is my plight

In seclusion and focus
long enough to settle in,
every word or phrase
becomes an understatement
with a greater pause
and reflection to it,
whether we sense it
or not

A tendency or trait I have
to sense,
comprehend what others may not,
and then for it to go
the other way round,
put all the way
into the oblivion back.
Apprehension…?

Every little moment,
situation,
thinking
or location
is a completely different presence
and stance of you,
no matter how similar it seems to any other,
for, like in alchemy,
existential fluids of Bowel Heart are endless,
new in every millisecond,
unique
and make varieties of you.

A poem
Isn’t directly Poetry,
Yet Poetry shall always take
A poem’s form
No matter what lips,
Eyes,
Thoughts
Or acts
Shall stutter it,
In the non-verbal closeness
As well,
If not even more

A fall from Grace
Uncertain in life's
race.
Thrown from Olympus,
My stars shut, my
Lots cast
Sitting in death's shade,
I breathe my last
Drawn from memories'
Abundant harvest
I take a stroll
Walking through
It's fields
Ripened tears,
Green smiles
That blossom
Sorrow
Hades beckons,
Heart drops
A fall from Grace
Is life's uncertain race.

She was my music
I danced with.
Created  in life's
Endless tunes
Clothed in
Chanted rythms,

beats
Woven with
Beautiful webs
Drawn from
Ceaseless flow
Of intricate patterns
Sewn
together
By broken masks.

Thud falls!
Discord breaks.
Ecstasy  fades
Enchantment  falls
She was the music
I danced with.

Fallen angels, beaten wings
Smiles faint
Thrown from high
Clouds closed, hearts droop
Life's race
Does cast stars
From lofty mountains
A loss here,
a tear there
A year here
Now nowhere
Shiny stars
Now bitten dust
Indeed
Fallen angels
Have beaten wings.

Im dying....
And
So Is my poetry