A Mission To Quiet Inner War
Poem
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There will be those moments of pure bliss,
Moments when we talk without voices,
Moments where the touch of stars will —
Convey long listed messages,
There will always be moments.
—
Seeking what is only ever ephemeral,
Like the taste of your lips,
The quiet in the mornings,
Just us with our peace so close,
Deep within our clenched fists,
Tired minds after fighting,
Ironclad in hoping to secret-keep them,
The equivalent of achieving silence in stormy minds,
An impossible secret mission.
—
Ageless and movement,
Both things made of human and fragments,
All the pieces of a puzzle hidden
Where love is the best friend of all things,
The desire and destination, not important,
Change and looping cycle,
A part of life,
But where is it that love the mandate
Inherit to life?
—
If it isn’t built in from the start,
When would it make an appearance,
When all those that love and loved,
Have no thoughts on what was until
The moments show up,
It is not of expectancy,
It would be of hoping and dreaming,
Even when it is a dark corner to be.
—
Even though we know of any and an end,
We know little of what we want,
So we drift and holding them deeply,
For the ephemeral is a home in code —
Written for us only to look and know,
For we might search for peace,
The stormy of us will always be.
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