Their eyes met,
And the moment melded,
Like rain to bodies of ocean
Like light
Meshing
From interpretation of reflection,
A conjuction
Of two souls in Parralell roles
A spiritual function
They hold together
Like a stone fortification
No winds
No hammers
Could shatter their affection
Their love built of conviction
An attraction
Only death could bring desertion
Yet.
Even then,
Such energy moves,
With transformation.

Shall he be cut off,
A wanderer of sight
Fulfilling but emptiness
A scattered figure
A corpse with meager instinct,
A shell of anatomy
Desolate like deserts beneath sun.

Feet, lacerated by grains,
Wounds to fester in absence of whole,
A man led in torture but yet sees truth
But removed be its company
A hand among the mirage
A gallery of bodies,
Dare be such a hand,
A whip awaits,

But shall he rise
Or find himself in the perpetual,
A crime, playing as if it be futile.
How brutal be the palm to grasp,
Though a wanderer of sight like many,
May he still be in resilience
Finding revelation
Though he be treated, as a David of present.

Around and turning,
Once a solo now a crowd of drinking
Anonymous thinking
But blunders of speaking.

Reversing, yet earning
But still to be losing
A circle of ringing
Mornings now be burning,

Traffic, convulsing
Spinning
Whirl winds of tragedy guided by crossing,
Picking,

Roots to flowers are falling,
Trapped, look, but be there fencing,
Gaping
Gazing,

A time of flaring
But around again,
It all feels of drowning
I hear, I see, but am I dwelling,

Rotting, causing,
The droning
The repeating,
Chambered in shrouding

But continues the singing,
Squeezing,
Pull the trigger, cease the doubting,
Piercing will be the freeing,

Mash the metal burn the rubber,
Mind not the spelling
We’re all addicting
Tripping

Mistakes of beginning, annoying
But some still see us as warming,
Around and around, we are all attempting,
Mind not the fault, we all need pruning.

So falls the seed
The seasoned dough
Lips of closed
A tongue for taste,
A sip to refresh
Laughter from chest
A moment abreast
Flowing to breeze
Oh! How these hours feel free.

Expanse beyond the eye to see
Though moment shall fall to shade,
Even evening holds its place,
Now forms the rise of molecule blaze,
A dancing array,
A comfort of crowd to stay
Though stars give way
For tomorrow’s valet,
A goodnight
But never an escape
Or an end weigh
But flavors, aromas
Memories built,
By friendship, and gourmet.

Did you hear,
Did you wake from slumber,
Feeling the pulse of it all,
The song that swirls beneath the feet of life,
Lifting like wings of a pearl dove,
Curling over the breath of wind
Rising above the breasts of earth.

Did you wake,
Did you feel,
The galaxy of atoms form,
Attracting with gravity
Like static to follicles of calcium,
Ascending to the allure of heavens,
Of sight before thee.

Did you move,
Did you stumble,
Before the humility of vision
The drawings of the soul.
Like births of Botticelli upon canvass,
Spilling, in motions by vigor
Dancing, to colors with modesty,

Did you open, like the locks, turned by key.

Triumph, but numb
No dust can cover the problem
No shade can drown the chasm,
The split in days of yore.
A mirror is but loathsome,
A visual phantom
His eyes are of void of expression
Yet laughter calls from the bottom
The darkened plasm,
A piece of light carries the gruesome,
A burden, a symptom,
An old system.

He hears the wisdom
But bears the venom
A volume of tandem
A man of spiritual paludism,
Unsure the antidote,
So builds a mental slum,
A place of humdrum
A tinnitus of thought, of being.

A city in complexion of own terrorism,
Much glory
Much honor, in friendship to brother.
But triumph fell to cynicism
A blackened robe cast net upon many,
Never, to blossom,
So lays shreds of torn peddles,
So leaves him upon a pendulum,
A man once of rhythm,
Now walks, in paths of spasm.