The voice I hear is ruminating in my head,
that treacherous depart was wounded instead of behead.
How I long for this pain to leave akin the December sky,
this imminent glory was only dreamed about in disguise.

How persuasive the universe was to the story,
it did not project the upcoming fury.
Of a devious bequeath that upheld the tantrum,
the sky soared with anger until its utter collapse.

When a drop of water fell from the engorging sky;
it dropped thousands of miles beneath,
until it splattered like a human who couldn’t breathe.
This anger spread like a wildfire, infecting all those longed desires.

The heart of which pumped no more blood,
Became equivalent to a plant breathing through a frozen sun.
Nature believed there were no further storms,
until the quarrel beneath was profoundly explored.

Through the bodies sensation one could not ignore,
made the heartache of this man’s soul.

Oh why are humans so weak.
Must the sun anger the kindness soul,
For I had only hoped for evermore.
Was I a victim who loved no more?
Or an open heart waiting to explore?

This journey could not be real,
however, it became nurturing to one’s appeal.
The ignorance disguised as love evidently appeared,
as the devil danced around as one had feared.

Ambiguous to the commonality of faith,
that created an ambivalence that aroused distaste.
The traitor became her experience and ego her age,
I was in love with a spiritual woman of a certain year of age.

By: Michael M. De La Fuente