If only you knew
On the eve of that somber, stormy night,
I began to see strings of spring swirling soundlessly
along the thread-thin blade of this culinary cutlery.
Why does gravity lay on thick in this silver steel accessory?
If only you knew, where there is a subtle screech of harmony,
there is a violent war viciously humming melancholy.
As the dust of what was once obscure drops from the passing clouds,
it sets in an assembly of soft, dull vowels,
waiting for the rug of grass to spread a path to the furthest mountain.
Why do I feel no raging colors from the twilight
yet see them so vibrantly?
How do I know nothing of summoning my movements,
when this adrenaline speaks distantly?
Alone, a rush of flame once formed, now shows the demons in the storm.
When this flesh and bones become one with the unpredictable elements,
I hope what prevails is the lore of my regiments,
where I bled into the disasters of my own shortcomings,
learning to rest without a bruise as I drown.
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