a radical raise

squinting at the sun,
my soul would declare:
just ’cause, I can see it coming,
doesn’t mean I know to get there,
but I can play a trick, hold my breath,
till it passes through me, and so fair.
for, the winds now coursing through me
as I breathe in and with utmost care
show me just when I may speak,
write and when to listen to the growing air.
alone I can tell it to my self strong,
that power is only truth’s rightful heir—
so why do roads stretch forth, fanning
out as do veins, and roots we wear
but so to guide with light and right
to all to which all have their own fair share—
beginning each with their own selves,
and only then, ever conquering the glare:
subduction-seductions to each’s fault,
crashing in those heartfelt ways we so dare;
so I must admit it, when I am so subdued
and when I have captured love so fair,
such that, when ever I meet another,
brother or lover, I seem quite so rare,
nearly to scare, though only that I may give
what I get of the sound were they there,
forever, my ample faith and treasured hopes
up high, in heaven’s sweet, subtle snare—
meeting eternal where ever-souls-meet,
love, light, and sound, providing their stair.
and otherwise, there’s no telling,
one’s good conscious, how it may fare,
be it conscious of where it lands,
or, then, given to false airs,
causes so unbecoming
of a lover so fair.

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