Where streams converge...
Free from demanding compressions
fleeting still,is the sliver of a moment
which brings together impulse imparted
where the absolute, and the eternal meet,
as tears of imperfection cry in streams
in the image of our most perfect creator,
why?...why to be in such favor,yet,made to suffer so?
The crucible of self,
can be a daunting place
but doubt not the fiery purpose,
as impure thoughts continue as a contagion
our fleeting moments become our eternal now...
where melancholy rides the back of depression,
spurred on by an ineffective spleen
as we traverse toward the spring of purifying waters...
Then the dawning shall brighten our shining purpose,
when heaven on earth shalt not be just a utopian dream
but,a new stream of enlightenment...