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Written: November 04, 2023, For Jaymee Thomas Contest
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Reflecting on this rip-roaring round adventure,
Gazing into the depths of our bound venture.
Conscious of the interactions found in nature, 
There was a widespread and revered prayer. 

Let us probe the depths of the metaphysical,
Bear the vacant path and look for the invisible.
Within both of these hitherto unknown places,
The unfathomable—foundation of our faces. 

Stars on the scarlet limbs—visible in my window,
Tactile blazes, elusive ash, wrinkled minnows.
Aromas, visuals, and ory sounds point to you,
Vessels are tied to your islands, awaiting a view.

There will be light rainfall and an earthy aroma,
With their bright music, swallows orbit stoma.
And the hum of raspy frogs in the lakes at night,
And feral plum orchards with tremulous white

A brutal, bothersome bunk brings me back blind,
I'll still rise as heat—if you stomp me behind.
That abet you feel sad while going into spells?
Storming into my scrap scope as stars and shells.

As your feelings for me vanish, so will mine,
Don't seek me out—you'll dull my sunshine.
Consider my life's banner to be furious,
You left me at the edge—my soul, spurious.

The entwined strands of love and anguish,
Of delight and sadness, success and languish.
Uncover the delicate symphony of existence,
So lovely—each interaction features an instance.

By lifting my arms—I shall reject the ground,
You sense a fate for me with an odd, awful sound. 
Every day a flower seeks me—I mimic that fire,
Kindly generate my affection in your pyre.

I expect waves and dreams to allow me to rise,
Did you wish me to be shattered in bow eyes? 
Can my loud sobs adduce my back ache as tears? 
Does my hubris upset you? Do you wear snares?

One way to acquire perspective is to look inside,
The dance of shades of gray, its rise and tide.
Life's many facets, both positive and negative,
Each minute is an opportunity for raw narrative.

Rising from history's shame and pain,
A black ocean—I rise and fall with the tide again.
A sunny day after nights of anguish and grope,
My ancestors skills built me a slave hope.

No one, not a tree or beast, would oppose
Suppose all mankind were to decompose.
Spring herself when she awakened at dawn.
Surely wouldn't be aware if we were all gone.

Pelted swans will flaunt their blazing style,
Howling their whims over a short fence pile.
Plus, nobody else will be aware of the fight.
Will be anxious if it is completely not in sight.

Whilst delving into the depths of the mystical,
Our deepest, most genuine selves are elliptical.
Our long-sought-after riddles are finally solved,
And unearth the wisdom hiding in view involved.

Trying to suss things out, deciphering riddles,
As we delve into the dark corners of our wriggles.
As in the inquiry into metaphysical fields of study,
The portal to our authentic selves was bloody.
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