Soon this old world
will be spinning
as always
and again
entangled
with how we are supposed
to feel
what we're meant to do.
Let the spectrum bleed
from blinding white
into deepest black
Demand words which
impact with beauty
and tragedy
and paradigms
and destruction
like bullets of god
to the brain waking dreams
into messy life outside
the lines etched into de facto mode.
Take the quiet lamp light advice
and seek out the over soul
from where all have fallen.
Torrential rains /with thunder and lightening scatter itself/The rivers collect them from many sources/leading but to the sea.