deepundergroundpoetry.com
March 10th Free write
There are two words,
That rise in mind.
One being burn and the other,
Consistently.
And from those two words,
Two worlds we’ll find.
Of,
Quite, different, kinds.
And all the while
Their and those respective scenes,
Lay joint as autumn is to spring,
By the overwintering thought,
Of,
What each means.
A deconstruction of repeated terms,
Held a flame on ice.
Of, or is it how,
That balance lasts?
The role and intrigue of unknown knowns,
Unfolds with a trust of life.
A trust,
That heals with its recurring hand and time.
A trust,
That feels the flames
Of those opposing thoughts you burn.
Yet,
Folds within your palms,
The truth and hopes,
The love and scars,
Of life.
That rise in mind.
One being burn and the other,
Consistently.
And from those two words,
Two worlds we’ll find.
Of,
Quite, different, kinds.
And all the while
Their and those respective scenes,
Lay joint as autumn is to spring,
By the overwintering thought,
Of,
What each means.
A deconstruction of repeated terms,
Held a flame on ice.
Of, or is it how,
That balance lasts?
The role and intrigue of unknown knowns,
Unfolds with a trust of life.
A trust,
That heals with its recurring hand and time.
A trust,
That feels the flames
Of those opposing thoughts you burn.
Yet,
Folds within your palms,
The truth and hopes,
The love and scars,
Of life.
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