It happened again,
I didn't contain my inner angels,
As they sang a tune of hope,
And out it poured,
Emotion, truth even.
And like oil, it caught fire,
Blackness, flames, smoke.
And words cannot be withheld,
And I said it, something true. Something felt.
A most beautiful emotion, a thought.
And a hydra formed of flames,
And a naked whiteness burnt my vision.
And I sat, bare feet upon solid ground,
Swaying like smoke.
Void, empty, null.
And nothing was left yet for hope.
And yet, the night breeze, I sensed, it became a hurricane in the morning, my dream, in it as though truth itself, is to know that night breeze, as though in romance- to romance the mystery of the hidden truth. For I love the night breeze, which so few yet can sense.
Wednesday, May 10, 2017
Posted by Marc Evan Aupiais at 10:57 AM
Dad; Husband; Christian (Catholic); Irish. — News; Business; History; Civilizations; The Western World; Speech; Culture; Law. (Pronounced: Aw-Pea-Air.)
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