lord
they say
of that home overhead
is beauty rapturous
but the interred
holler a song
showing gold to be lead
for his might is rancorous
thought that allure captures still
for when have the greedy had their fill
not in this life
not in the next
for the fearful are still afraid
and will be still, when down they're laid
despite their fight
the sickly go too
for all their bated breaths
could not help in their deaths
that fed the soil what hungered so
going silently
into that goodnight

To want to speak. And not to know how.

To feel. And not to know what.

To be dead, and breathing; somehow.

I choose detachment;
Excitement brings more distress,
It never brings peace.

Beating heart blush out my blood
Then rest then rest then rest then rest

Cresting waves crash on my shore
Recede recede recede recede

Howling gale you lash at me
Then breathe then breathe then breathe then breathe

Universe you stream away
Return return return return

In life we fill then die away
In darkness our constricted iris widens

Our life , like a time-lapse nature film plays out:
We grow, we wilt
We bolt and quiver to life
Then stagger back to earth
Eaten up to live again

Everywhere this motif
As humble as the bloat in the frog's throat
Systole, diastole
Our beating hearts our gasping breaths
Onwards, always, our lives lived outwards
Filled at rest

From the warm breath of bright light,
blue sky breaks through our dormancy.
Cool breeze still keeps on bare air,
whilst curved lines rise bound in time
to care for the meaning of life.

We're expected to expand or contract,
responding to vast constructs set upon us.
It's easy to forget measures of the present tense.
Stillness often corrects parallels to connect, as impulses bubble up to ****** inside the mind.

Characters unseen play amongst the set,
there are integrated games we gain but our existence is said to be simplistic.
Focus on your sense of self and betterment, less complicated within the riddles of preconditioning.
Here to give, win and begin again.