deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Calling
The falling,
Like snakes sure,
In dust, hides.
The wilder,
Like bare grounds,
In planes, turns.
The shading,
Like dark chance,
In sides, fools.
The summon,
Like eyes wide,
In depth, voids.
The beckon,
Like stars vast,
In truth, burns.
The founding,
Like down to,
In rise, spins.
The transit
Like due night,
In maze, twists.
The reckon,
Like steps tilt,
In paths, walks.
The feeling,
Like cold touch,
In moons, shifts.
The viewing,
Like grave slates,
In skies, hones.
The sounding,
Like dry thirst,
In tone, howls.
The guessing,
Like words spell,
In vain, dies.
The calling,
Like clear day,
In God, spans.
The venture,
Like change sweeps,
In choice, moves.
The cleansing,
Like pure white,
In sight, shines.
The blessing,
Like no end,
In life, gives.
Like snakes sure,
In dust, hides.
The wilder,
Like bare grounds,
In planes, turns.
The shading,
Like dark chance,
In sides, fools.
The summon,
Like eyes wide,
In depth, voids.
The beckon,
Like stars vast,
In truth, burns.
The founding,
Like down to,
In rise, spins.
The transit
Like due night,
In maze, twists.
The reckon,
Like steps tilt,
In paths, walks.
The feeling,
Like cold touch,
In moons, shifts.
The viewing,
Like grave slates,
In skies, hones.
The sounding,
Like dry thirst,
In tone, howls.
The guessing,
Like words spell,
In vain, dies.
The calling,
Like clear day,
In God, spans.
The venture,
Like change sweeps,
In choice, moves.
The cleansing,
Like pure white,
In sight, shines.
The blessing,
Like no end,
In life, gives.
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