Cease,
sound.
Cease as I attempt to claim,
this that has never quite existed as that in which I can tame.
Peace,
absent another name.
Who's wave hits,
as I feel stupendous turbulence.
Who's world flips,
as I exist absent a conforming gift.
Seize,
not these lips.
For,
with them I shall seek the simplicity of nothingness.
For,
my words shall create what I miss.
A,
present.
A time,
in which my mind is mine.
A time,
that confines my existence.
That leaves presence,
undefined.
Here,
take hold of love as if within tomorrow's arms.
Leave hope as if to know tomorrow's born.
And,
seek what i forever mourn.
Express what one shall seek to own.
For,
I own nothing but that of the soul.
This soul knows not,
of the absence of emotion.
Knows not,
the ability to simply be,
that which is never spoken.
For,
it seeks nothing,
but forming.
To be this form.
This distinctive form.
To be absent a conforming chain.
To truly never be,
the same.
My eye shall forever seek that of the sky.
Shall forever exist,
as an eye untethered from pride.
Shall see deeply,
never to miss,
another's,
life.
©lamarcus12
L