these feelings are quakings high,
that ripple through like tides that rise
these echoes in the distance,
are nostalgic feelings,
how ominous they seem, though comforting;
I feel less but more
these sad days are bright for sure
im better feeling within myself
but life remains and fame that gains,
I hold to flames, and thrive in rain,
I fall down as chains, above the drain
rolling hopes in whispers grow, I am the placid plains;
though effort melds my soul, ive nothing
in everything so down, above below.
molting is, im free. breaking bonds to seldom see
as water currents flow for thee
though life has always been, to be
nether and voids like eyes that see
and hollow holes, to want, to be
I need and yearn and in this stupor
show, how effort sates my soul, and shakes
as I begin to grow