A quiet, gentle man whom I respect tremendously as a friend of ours.
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Touching interiorly, signs from God, using innate gifts,
composed as I walk along edges of tomorrow, alone andforlorn.Being tempered with suffering and a sacred grief, heldin check by sounds of ancient music, stationing itselfdeeply within – resting peacefully in depths of a holyloneliness.
Leaves are fluttering in the skyway of my eyes.
separating reality with the passing of time.Lovingly, I look at everything, photographingit upon my memory, so I may always have somethingto write about, to think about, to share in a poem,when I am no longer here.
My soul carries me away on wings of prayer.
Soft music traveling through inner workings of my heart, circulating itself into a special pathway in my brain.Music no one else can hear or feel, because it’s inside of me.Lines traveling down pages in many books, written in my own handwritten style of prose, verses free from coercive rules of rote.Checkerboarded life played like chess…
Ecstasy mounting with every reverberation
Totaling additions of tomorrow’s signals,bleeding into periods of echoing silence.Being tuned to particular patterns and designsof poetical musing.Catching up with rhythms, seeing them form so manywords in pages of poetry and an interior essence oflifetime’s positive attitudes.Falling forward, seething with an anger from pastpictures, once known in lucid details.Searching for samples of rhythm, taking me…
Soundly listening to algorithms of musical formulas, intellectualizing every note and placing it into accountable treasures fit for royalty, yet given freely to anyone with an open mind.
Calculating interiorly, sounding every beat with intense fire and contemplative silence.Inside, burning with an intellectual ferocity of purpose.