Symphonic

I want
With the stroke of my pen, to strike you down
With the blink of my eyes, to unsee you

More importantly

I need
With the tools I surely possess, to repair my own heart
With the uncommon grace that is my sinew, to forgive you

City Of

A woken aura found me

Slow-danced me in silence when I thought to over-think

Baby, flanked in trouble, why?
Come here from over there

With your eyes wide open now
Rest in Me, He said

The Rest

There is no sleep due you, no matter the hour -and the work you’ve put in lies in escrow- so, should you decide to denounce the dark, come to the table and smile, you will find what’s waited there for you throughout the time you spent wasting your allegiance to some greyish space you’d grasped while grieving another’s hopelessness projected onto Your skin: renounce your faith in That, now.

Call It

Always then fall 
Times you cannot will to stand 
Quiet yourself, take a bow, take a knee
Until when tomorrow 
Finds your chin straight
Your will intact
With the path lying crisply ahead