The
Motive
Seen as
suddenly as glistening morning dew
Exploding
motive spreads fever beyond all pews
The
numbers high, normalcy gone for a ride
One focus
with a barrier, improbable the climb
Heavenly
is the invisible cloud
All
encompassing the motive, driving round and round
Lost to
the touch is the unaware existence
Immense
is the fountain’s insistence
Deepened
mind the requirement for revealing
Concentration
the quiet core to gauge feeling
No
miracle possible to witness that core helplessness
The aromatic
position of taste a constant resilience
Oh the
human condition, swapping concretes to allay abstracts
Pretense
is the nonchalance that more than one is not cracks
Where is
success or failure in such a quest?
Is defeat
abstract success, or like beauty, that which you behest?
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