Opulence

The tide evokes an open dream
in the sorrow of
tomorrow,
blending not-knowing
with vials of
servitude.

Undulating screams
fall flat on glittered circles
which hide in extremities
to forgive the complexities.
There are no enemies.

Entrance to the room is all
the opulence a heart can fathom. When cringing
loses its luster,
solitude surrenders,
to a song without a fever
but surely full of splendor.

Feeling the nights of summer,
the cramped space
bursts with beauty and
desire, and succumbs to
love and wonder.

Being is creating the
textures and the colors,
outpouring to the others.