so if by tomorrow you do not find me
here. do not start sudden solos.
sobs. or sighs
strung for exiled sons. do not my name squeeze
into the sympathy of subtle snakes. or
vain seekers.
i must have gone yes and yearning into yesterday. and by dawn
return rolling down the sun.
i must have raptured the sky for tufts. of
coy clouds.
rains and rich rainbows.
smudging scars. solitudes. silhouettes. and making magic.
i must have crept. soul and slither.
sublime.
into calm cadence.
crazy.
my soul stretching into strings. signing
storms into celebration.
Source: Enigmatic Global Concept