Resolute

Know of a house that sits atop a hill
The yawning chasm
Between the Vision tree and the Reality plant do you feel?
Surrenders its existence? It doesn't.


The Supreme Surrender i gather?
(yes)
Clipped the wings of the Happy Phoenix?
(no)
Dormant hopes cannot be fathomed.
Slithers a token flight, lands in a fix.


Its utter falsehood.
Sends images set mirages, flick on its fire.
Left in a quagmire.
Its danky grey mood.


Self-prerogative
Now what is this?
Logic crumples under the motive.
You couldnt have that missed.



I think I know.
I think its was a cloud.
I think its a agenda.
Now I think, i am confused.
Of the whatever intentions.



Walk the talk,
Talking as you walk.
Wade in the shallow pool..
Hmm, That-General-Conversation-Pool



Pull the stops.
These senseless talk.
Guilty as charged.



Wired within.
Perfecto.
Wireless with-Out.
Largo.
(so we never did comprehend)

Cliche dictates,
The devil or the big blue sea
The Vision or the reality tree
Have it stranded, that is what it makes.


Demolition of this House
A mere provocation of the shell.
I swear it doesnt get me.
Well,Just let the fire go, please don't have it doused.


Cleanse it, if you will.
Build another, if you must.
Nicely, if you can.
Commit, if you please.


Fragments of emotions
Dusky speck flew into my eye
All this shit. Tell me go seek contention.
Allow the biten dust to just die.


Punctuated feelings.
Everyone has That Spare to Boot.
Easy fixing does the filling.
Dash the commas, under my foot.



No, Babe, i'm not paraphrasing.
Stream of thoughts thats all to it.
Random musings
Murmured mutterings, silence it.


Now back to the House, with the trees.
Isn't it ironic?
The trees, semblance of authorities.
Its plain notorities.


Remember Eve's own prerogative?
The mirage, of self-proclaimed authority,
Fell prey to a Serpent's Motive.

Pray thee, its Bellicose-d Brevity

Really, I recognized

The speck of dust and me are the same size.

Flimsy, fluttering, floundering.

What else is there to it?

Beauty comes in Four-s.

Maybe the adjective comes in Fives.

I can't spill my mind.

Shyness has me bind.

Purge me thoughts?

Ought to, but (sigh) i just cannot!

Well...Heaven knows,

As i do a little furrow to my brows.

Entrust, says the Psalmist.

I am trying to internalise the gist.

Anyways, i Digressed.

Thoughts in molasses of mess.

Massive tinkerings

All I wanted to say, is of the following...

The House is still atop on the hill,
Lord, fill it if you will.
Seek residence in its soul.
Eternity, have it mould.

Do not forget to remember it.