A subtle ascension

But that’s home,

and jasmines lose their fragrance overnight.

The Holy Spirit, should never be compared

To the spirit unfulfilled, gravely disturbed.

Maybe an amputee can tell the pain of pruning, branched trees

Persistent in their reform to grow inward, rooting soil deeper than sticks and poles

Yet, like antennas clashing with the nearest catastrophe

The human mind wants to reverse the white noise, into a state of rhapsody

Maybe a thing or two makes you think, maybe question

Have you thought of all that doesn’t?

Weaklings thinking themselves good had they lame paws

And transparent egotism, a way upward, a way away

A word or two makes you heal. A sentence that turned into a squeal

A laugh that wasn’t laughter

It is subtle ascensions like these, my comrade

That regurgitate prayer, back to the monk who took a vow of silence for his remaining life.

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Published by

S.K.

This right here, keeps me sane. You will find here, sincere thoughts mixed up with a subconscious trying to fuck it all up. I hope you understand.

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