Plenty of words cross my mind
Lines of muse that dip and fly,
Entries of longing, discord, and trial
Assemble in rhythms of rowdy piles.
Saturated florals of ink and key
Unclaimed meadows to a wandering bee,
Running in teams with tangents that steer
Ending their chase in eight tones to hear,
Silence to find the cadence complete
~ starry nights shine ten times as sweet.
Philosopher
