Poetic Soul
Comparable to the dash of a rare jewel.
The first flash to arise on the land crewel.
They'll be pawns of ice nets for all time.
Recent hope doesn't entail lyrics sublime.
But the iota of love that calls on it to emerge.
From stillness: the red-hot coal of love surge.
The artist heeds his tone starting to smolder.
Instantly, as if to brag toward a line bolder.
With his noble sentiments or his violin.
If it generates light or optimum vibes within.
When it arrives, a clean verse will sound.
Clean and calm as a mounting spring around.
The lake lies underneath a visible azure sky.
Nothing, not your name, nor mine, cry.
Written: August 18, 2022
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