Beauty of this effortless.
I did not come to swallow of guilty tongue,
Though rightfully, it has been made done.
Having been I to pronounce in unrightful bearing,
Brought down in redeeming unveil in the turning toward you.
My eyes were told to ration my love in foreign experiences,
Such a time that I couldn’t hold back.
Time ran like a moment of memory,
Which was the cause for all motion to remain.
Your defining passerby moment made me consume silence,
Unfolded your presence, expressed your moment to not forget.
Showing guiltiness of my dissonant mind.
Beauty of not any effort, I became an atonement and could not say.
Forthwith that moment, this stride, yours.
To glimpse what I became aware.
Seamlessly this path was made more.
Evermore I mourn to relive it.

This one, may one cry from warfare.
Having seen all being crippled more.
Mangled thoughts, torn grounds stretch.
Desolate is a coma one shouldn’t know.
Tarnished mind of the cost, realize ahead.
Why such choice bound with omission.
Giving the bitter space of no home owned.

I cry war, resound sign oh forgotten mourn.
Swear and swear this nightmare to burrow.
All see and stand the true torment ahead.
For chaos gives the start, one of two endings.
Strive for hope or be profane the mind.
From this place, one to be known by me.

Noise softens walls of time passed caverns.
Lapsed echoes scathe within its cryptic.
Pensive submergence chants to nothing,
even while it sullenly strums with longing.
This whispering hollow. This versed passage.
Feed me the thoughtless desire I’m amidst,
Such sense brought upon you, one as matter.
Seeming this, just as your name, worthy.
Having been within, some undeniable will.

Separation. Plagued by distance.
I foretold that depth covers alone,
My own regards embraced by lands.
I’ve said my path is formed itself,
Not knowing if that stays by truth.

Felt the breadth of much solitude,
To take blessings through my senses.
Grounds I sufficed by them to walk,
Travel I believed, more than I stand.

A pace that tends my heart solemnly,
The only thought which says continue.
This blessed aching alone defeats me,
before again, on legs, I rise unjustly.