Wishes on a wakeful walk
lay lonely along a long stretch of land,
diluting, diseminating, disappearing,
singing sobs of sweet sorrow.
Alone again amidst a mass
of old obsolete orary outcries,
mixed, mangled, mostly forgotten
but boxed in by
personal preferrence.
Cranium cracks,
fears fly freely
but out of control
they accost the mind
box slightly broken but
try to contain them
take tape, the
screams stay.
Some got away,
free radicals.
Stray stress,
a strange sabbatical.
Love the Liturgy.
Leave Lost Love Lost
and all things will come.
In Time.
