Grasping at the Stems


Grasping at the stems

Arises truth again,

Simplicity foreseen, yet

The gleaming light scarcely trickles through the ambry of doubt.

Instead, I order a drought of connection

To compress sentiment into pretending

The realm of joy lies in the pending

While open scars await mending

Lending the drive to the hindrance of worth,

While sheer resolution was gifted at birth.

A humble union with the grounds of earth

And what lies upon her

Shalt not wither the war of mistrust

Nor the gyves of yearning end,

May the moment be still

A cry to transcend.

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