I hear a whisper on a spirits curve
In vast isolation's of exaggerated stresses
Become touched with fire
My mind adrift with a beautiful squandering
Of inclusion which acquires an uncanny capacity
To breed, to reproduce to have floatations
Such flotillas of words that sail across my horizon
An armada of silent sound for such as is their rebirth
These whispered words that dot my waves
And leave my lashes blinking at their boldness
For they are the words, they are, they are the words
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 8:01 PM UTC
I hear a whisper on a spirits curve
In vast isolation's of exaggerated stresses
Become touched with fire
My mind adrift with a beautiful squandering
Of inclusion which acquires an uncanny capacity
To breed, to reproduce to have floatations
Such flotillas of words that sail across my horizon
An armada of silent sound for such as is their rebirth
These whispered words that dot my waves
And leave my lashes blinking at their boldness
For they are the words, they are, they are the words
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