Inspired by the work of Alanna Young

My unclear mind’s refuse,
to read your deepest thoughts;
this hallowed consciousness,
now reamed of its trust;
the lack of you, beside me walked,
alone in teaching’s grasp;
they slowly close in fear,
as surrounding as mourn’s weary weep;
all shadowed is my twin,
as I walk slowly there;
up towards that stairway,
leading our bonding home;
will’s wish be spoke,
into your embrace I long;
this thought, oh the tears,
upon my cheek now flow;
fore long, in suffering’s whet,
they no longer sow;
in example thus, to express,
my most profound love in too;
your thoughts do surely know mine,
and how I cry for yours;
that hate, which is my loneliness,
in our times apart;
this deep, this thing,
which turns my grace to thresh;
to my amaze, these locks and bindings,
keep me in heart’s loss;
with each wring, my soul is bared,
upon it’s line and age;
expose’ the ending’s rode,
at each and every gate;
so lost, I express the weakness,
that I do not smile;
and this owned one shown,
is anyone’s, and not the truth;
that doe so skewed,
within I’ve kept witch in, and in kind turn;
in chance, this dark escapes and arises,
in mind wherein;
and with ease this done,
as I’ve done ere before;
the truth of fading facts so true,
without you, there is such me;
to this, an only frown,
and never more to smile;
I need your tome, your tone,
your singing loud and edgy voice;
to wright my keel, and gently sail,
upon the winds of wings you bring;
your touch surrounds,
my spirit toils;
this soil I am,
to your yearning roots;
an essence gained,
is that you knowingly show;
upon my searching face,
to find the heat of your embrace;
this life, this breath, our nature’s gift,
the graving grace that is you;
release that first thought and bring,
brightness to my most profound dark;
yours is that strength,
that honesty, that brilliance sown;
to gently warm,
my weary of this world soul;
this, is that which feeds the need,
to fulfill my will;
and how this,
is needed sown by all;
to ease the chill,
that breeze which fear so breeds;
my spirit kneels,
in stunning stupor’s stain;
as the irreality of these spinning tines,
when gently plucked do toll;
my spirits veiled to that,
which you show, as life’s true bright;
this needs be to me,
through these eyes, it is I your seer;
my fear of loss, your light,
your love, your call;
self’s essence freed, my heart now bled,
my home is there with you.
 
Michael Darrell Walker

(2013)

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