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a string of pearls
I string the moments together
of all the times I've tried to make it so perfect
the luxury was deep
the air, crisp and exquisite
my life and sweet babies-breath,
rolling out of me
misting the blue velvet air
every morsel of my truest dreams
slowly, in a manifesto, revealing itself
my bare feet on ice,
and it all,
was an ocean of wonder
that took on and was seen through
glistening stars and glittering snow
the chill on the wind
outside in my nightgown
shivering, it only made me feel alive
I gathered these things
like pearls on a chain
I'd wear to live out peace
and feel rested
re:so the swine they come and feed.
Fortunately or otherwise.
I can only agree.
But not for night air again its prize,
Nor strings of things I can only release.
But for the true emptiness in the words,
That in completion a simple night jay or blacbird would chirp.
To show perhaps that for the punkja pain of a thousand lives,
There still be more without and loaved deep inside.
But for our bread, our stars, the sun and orbits,
To play a child, mouse, chair under queen,
Tis ridiculous that we should care glistening pats of sheen
Too what organum does really look just girl so toy?
,
To be found but a maggots and samples said deposits.
Ye to the many who would dream, let them for what men are made of void,
{|;:-?)