July 22

Funnels from above
distinguish the black from white.
Candidly it fills
with time it regenerates
into a cyclic tunnel.


Growing like tulips
it drives without a limit.
As clear cut as day,
a load just penetrates deep
and journeys as it warns, "Stop!"


Timidly but frank,
the words spew out on demand.
A sanctuary;
symphonies fully coloured,
generated by default.


Literary keys
knit together to form whole
and fragmented lives.
With roads like phases,
diverge and divert closeness.


Twitching at the form,
it stirs even when untouched,
and takes the practice
when proned to fail at first try,
until it releases breadth.


Taking a step down
submits the self to think.
Owing what we choose
and conduct what's overdue,
when daylight collides with night.


Consider the ones
accounted for when kept near
they run the fast track,
and skip pebbles in between
as experience takes shape.


Figure and the ground
return with shadows,
to trigger distance;
summon what's best left alone,
'til the day he steps back home.


Green to an auburn
speaks to me like a sweet dream.
Fetching somewhere close,
slowly it relates to my
underlying passion to sense.


Reciting old flames
once carried far and so wide.
Travels to strangers
emit a misguided love,
crushing boundaries thus far.


An impact in view,
developed in mighty strands
the want to erase
overpowers the keeners
and leaves those inhibited.