Stillness transposed
through the Clarity of prose
not rhyme nor reason
merely influence of season
to bury the sword and lift my Pen
words flow free through my blood once again
as if I am Falling
or Flying
and I love it!
no other high could lift me above it
A home built of syntax
protecting my core
from the demons of silence
I've come to abhor
Poetry lives underneath each breath
and will linger in my being
even after my Death
Because the heart stops beating
and blood stops flowing
But even underground
My mind continues growing