Though what you are looking for is not lost.
So you indulge
the many cosmos with the one
thing life really needs.
The presence of a cheerful excavation
An uncovering process
Top
To Bottom--
My glance is always softened
By the way this one folds
her cardigan
Alongside her sarong.
No, not so wrong,
so right. It reminded me,
The glowing pile of her identity
Trampled upon by the passion
That heated, viscous piece of time
Where
magnets Seemed most permeable.
Oh, the sound of my ego
hitting the floor,
As if pianos could play backwards
Combined with the vessel,
Into which we pour
lost moments
The sequences of ourselves most vulnerable…
Those moments of awakened dream that we spend paralyzed
Ghosts gripping, eyes bright as they are
midnight fright,
But still she is there
Angelic form framed freshly
In the moon's most grandmotherly light
Such elegant nourishment…as if to say "pinky's up now then; good show"
The space around the form is surrounded
By the ever ordered, static grid.
But also chaotic, dynamic electric fur licking the opaque edges of dark off the wall.
I can move again,
I'm on the mend.
Together we’ll face the quakes, the winds, and the inky fires
And no river will hold us helpless by it's serpentine fluid dynamics
Like the grounds they hold captured, eternally etched through gushing grace.
Why be held captured to the ground my stars, when through love we can fly?
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 1:13 PM UTC
Though what you are looking for is not lost.
So you indulge
the many cosmos with the one
thing life really needs.
The presence of a cheerful excavation
An uncovering process
Top
To Bottom--
My glance is always softened
By the way this one folds
her cardigan
Alongside her sarong.
No, not so wrong,
so right. It reminded me,
The glowing pile of her identity
Trampled upon by the passion
That heated, viscous piece of time
Where
magnets Seemed most permeable.
Oh, the sound of my ego
hitting the floor,
As if pianos could play backwards
Combined with the vessel,
Into which we pour
lost moments
The sequences of ourselves most vulnerable…
Those moments of awakened dream that we spend paralyzed
Ghosts gripping, eyes bright as they are
midnight fright,
But still she is there
Angelic form framed freshly
In the moon's most grandmotherly light
Such elegant nourishment…as if to say "pinky's up now then; good show"
The space around the form is surrounded
By the ever ordered, static grid.
But also chaotic, dynamic electric fur licking the opaque edges of dark off the wall.
I can move again,
I'm on the mend.
Together we’ll face the quakes, the winds, and the inky fires
And no river will hold us helpless by it's serpentine fluid dynamics
Like the grounds they hold captured, eternally etched through gushing grace.
Why be held captured to the ground my stars, when through love we can fly?
