Beauty's contortion--in a loving purpose give to him your peace,
And the perceptual distance--please answer the prayers for
This his deliverance. Chaotic justice crossing the realms above
Understanding--walk away with sun polished water along vivid
Warmth alive with fragrance, Just to believe in dreams, (but are
Never to dance upon these skies.) wondrous seems they do caress
The light that shines through reflected thoughts, give rise to
Small, tranquil, needs of fresh infancy. (For the surrounding
Signs of upheaval are transient, not that fixation of
Suffering.) A voice of disparaging rage, in all its eternal
Skies of glory, awake his wandering eyes, "it's all freedom of
Flight." These are the sad feathers of dying, ripped from the
Wings of desperation--he is his own gift of fury. Beauty now
Glides in a vast cobalt legion, these shimmering saffron tides,
Like gentle winds, blowing kisses to shattered expanses.
Wondering echoes of solitude shrieking down all sides of grasping
Creation--to the churning center--engulfing the fabric of
Splendor pulsating in the unexplained that grants worth to the
Open void--enter into majestic oblivion pleasure.