floral sound
astound in glory
tales being told why the sad story
fluid tears running from blindness
the beauty in us is bursting with shyness
pure with out pains
sparks turn to flames
the same old story of when the sun stopped shinning
now we can rest and prepare for crest crowning
thoughts that scream for mercy with aspiration
i see the bodies that proceed without prepared anticipation
learn from the norm, wile the wise stay in contemplation
raise so we can apply the force of meditation
stand quietly alone in a crowded situation
swing the sound of free speech thinking there no defense in site
despite the collectively plots from behind the screen staring at might
mind creativity from the consistent questioning and suspicion
elevated sphere plugged in to experiencing awareness called intuition