Shroud of eclipse,
Where murmurs are cloaked in velvet firmament,
And valor clings to breath held tight-
The cosmos halts in reverence.
Shroud of eclipse,
Where enigmas thrum within spectral gleam,
And destiny reweaves its primordial thread-
A lone ember dares awaken.
Shroud of eclipse,
Where umbral trials forge tempered spirits,
And hope is clad in dusk-wrought steel-
The precipice of metamorphosis.
Ascension of glory,
From the sable clasp of night emerges the soul,
Its vision refined in light's retreat-
A conflagration reborn.
Ascension of glory,
The veil unravels, the hush is shattered,
And triumph, sovereign and incandescent
Devours the vestiges of darkness.
Neurology asks
How does our bicameral brain
and bilateral neural-system work,
both positive and negative?
Meanwhile, form greets function.
Psychology asks
What can minds with bodies tell us
about who we were,
who we are,
and those whom we might become,
and prefer not to become?
Because to do so would be even more pathological;
negative psychology
is pathological psychology.
But,
both neurology and psychology
assume this same radically fundamental spectrum
of regenerative health
through degenerative pathology
of physical and metaphysical climates
for landscapes
internal and external,
positively cooperative
on through too competitively dissonant.
Ultimately,
neurological psychology
reweaves how our healthy ego-systems work
sometimes optimally,
too often minimally,
toward whom and what
and when and where
and even why
we would most regeneratively become
together.
On time saw live, sacred;
no emit was evil, desecration;
neurologically anti-healthy negative psychology.
Left alone to sit n sulk
of stresses there's a bulk
all leave the house at nine
I'm left only to sit n whine
we live in a mansion
maintaining it is a tension
all get back only to dine
hungry inmates for food pine
they take it for granted
that ill have cooked all ,that's wanted
none to lend a helping hand
morning to night I prepare meals grand
cleaning the place is another domain
Its a mania ,which to accomplish is a pain
Always I move around with a duster
I wish to see most things maintain their lustre
grandchildren get home at lunch
looking always for new stuff to munch
their parents get back late
they run to their arms straight
each one then leaves
that's when some tension reweaves
They don't realise I'm not that agile
With time I'm rendered fragile
I muse will this cleanliness mania ever be released?
or my duties eased
my life it seems has freezed.
after spell of dank darkness
light burst through cracks-
cue life, reweaves
an intricate spiderweb
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