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Grace, to see the luminant sea and its ever flowing breeze shifting through the space of time my eyes a vision of the tease, wayward on my senses grow into a fading and aging slow drifting into a sleepy glow to the end of an opening show, the...

Grace, to see the luminant sea

and its ever flowing breeze

shifting through the space of time

my eyes a vision of the tease,

wayward on my senses grow

into a fading and aging slow

drifting into a sleepy glow

to the end of an opening show,

the tight rope walker in footing

fire eater sets the sun ablaze

step right up yells the troubadour

to the freak show, of the days.

 

poetic cultivation

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