Mooning

The extraction of the hymn,

the verse of a blend,

the words will know healing,

a Life in a bend.

This Circle of Find,

all alone in a wind,

reversing repetition,

releasing intertwined.

The melody of music,

heard without news,

commercial reminds,

that blue is attuned.

Post Haste to turn-off,

this faucet or walk,

to seek-out no record,

in karmic debate.

To repeat the same mistake,

a Life is not paved,

the stick of this talk,

a carrot of trade.

To stoke only burnt,

remains of the play,

the script of a past,

a future in caved.

To have sought out the keep,

the dungeon of route,

the rails so loud,

in an open kowtow.

The minds of a crowd,

the matter so black,

the whole in the fact,

the Site to look back.

Silk Threads