 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Balancing the Edge
Darkness smiles in
Sunlit paths, warmed, while Drinking
Anticlimactic baths—of bittersweet—destiny’s rum
The titter of time is
Balanced
Here
On music’s line, entwined,
A twisted knot, Balance’s
Amnesic Plot, swim to
The edge of —
Blue.
The face is, in shattered glass,
Passing through, as heart’s
Blood
Runs into desolate veins,
Begging for the reins of
Balance.
Slower, finds a crack, in
Shards fallen on
The floor, waiting
To underscore Triumph.
Pools form
In the ground, a passerby
Leans down—missing Dead eyes—already
Gone above the skies, Balance
Lost, the Amnesic
Plot dies.