The questioning inside in search for love complete,
the dusted soul by perception not able to read.
The blinded spirit begging by pain to reprieve,
the part in one of all in silence to receive.
Poems do clear smudged wondering in time,
creating reflections in different light to refrain.
As light in tiny furnace like far off cosmic directions,
or moonlight streamed through shack hole sections.
Conscious matter is the world that comprehend itself,
the obligated fire where no spirit fails.
To sense the vibrated rapture in eternal touch,
all worlds in singular symbiotic virtue as such.
More to all knowledge in the oneness within,
the clear reflection already waiting to begin.
Those moments in tedious hours concluded,
the gaze by intimate salvation alluded.
Mirrored in the ever complete unrest,
only to hear the tender purpose driven breath.