my heart beats for love, my beast to overcome
to not look outside myself, no longer divide myself
send kisses to above, but on earth, I succumb
Your body like cheap motels, perfumed  idealistic summer tales
follow me into the season of orange
carve a smile in my face like a pumpkin
trying to keep the spark alive is redundant
who could’ve done it, I wasn’t
I didn’t look below before I jumped in
now I am swimming in all my presumptions
it was gold like a nugget, till it wasn’t
knew I could do better If I focussed on the constant
which is me and all my little flaws, if you could see behind all the walls
serpentine to carve my body from clay
morph and transform is all I know
my new metamorphosis awaits

"There is an appointed time for everything, /
A time for every activity /
under the heavens;" /
—Ecclesiastes 3: 1 (NWTSE) /

A season has departed, /
A season has begun, /
The Circle of Life continues, /
A legacy remains undone. /

The gauntlets I have transcended, /
Have diamonded my soul; /
Therefore, I offer this solemn petition /
Knowing the fight remains to be won. /

In time, there will be tribulations /
But this heart stands adamantine, /
These eyes remain dauntless, /
My spirit is forevermore unphased. /

A time of self- (re) discovery /
Has burgeoned anew, /
We will all metamorphose /
If we look to the future bemused. /

Your potentialities are enormous; /
Together, we are a fulgurant storm. /
Rise, rise, young stalwarts /
You are a Spark of The Divine. /

The experiential cascade is perpetual, /
Incessantly persevere, /
May wisdom inhabit each one of us, /
May we each forsake not to love. /

A chrysalis has unraveled /
Diaphanous wings have been borne, /
Doubt not inviolable beauty /
Always, abides in the light. /

(—Se' lah)


07-18-2021

going outside nowadays is just a game of
who can hold their breath the longest and of
looking for reasons to pass the time in your
own backyard but the gardens i see are only for
the literary muses haunting writers into submission
and for digging up holes with plastic shovels and
for wishing that i could pick up the daisies
and place them in your hair

i was in the middle of drawing a circle when
my arm quivered and now the line shoots
way past the paper and it's currently
undulating over my desk and zooming past
a caterpillar that's contemplating whether the
process of becoming beautiful would actually
make him beautiful when he already knows
that he is beautiful

i hope the god i pray to forgives me for
making all the lines i write be about you