The Chribum

There's a balance between these lines, which
cross my hopes and fears for a changing reality.
All dare to impart ambition upon the places that need
a little light to shine throughout the night

often misplacing dreams, origins, and
remembering the end's just sand in these eyes,
but I'm not blinded by the current meaning
of trivia--a dull definition hides.

Behind four letter simplifications, I complicate
time this time to tell where purpose stays
once the symbol moves-on, and I awake--wondering what's left.

To say-- an ego is my creation; the lie
I persuade Jacob's Ladder to escape
the destruction of a stranger's truth.

How children overthrow their parents.

When they cry-- and neither hear thoughts,
language blames the Tower of Babel's fall

All that hates life offers love

in my dreams!

Where elegance is a green field, my crude humor dies
of laughter from humility; I grow this gallery
to say what's in my head, but never show
sense that makes none-the-opposit.

Unless I give passion a symbol, silence wills
fate. The parody refracts fruit,
and the serpant whispers in blue shade
to sooth my God's dead roots.

As decay answers regret, there's still--
--air in my lungs to leave these words
with purpose of their own, and my mistake in finding

Comfort vaulting the walls of reality

Eternally.