The roses of the plant reform cognitive
Valves within true ignition of the heart.
Fertile ground bursts into flames,
Every stone unturned remains
And where foregone go restless
Souls disturbed by the absence
Of revolving doors.
I tried to be the keeper of the
Light from the begotten sunrise
To lifelong truths of the setting
Is there no reform for light dwelling
Within hearts of all hearts?
I be transfixed when all be overcome
By the lulls of night.
Where shall children fall into praise
On bended knee when no footstool
Exits? The simply wind down their
Starlight twinkling around beset
If ever you shall be remembered
For lulling your heart’s fire,
It shall be for the light of heaven
Burning up the sky with all consuming
Amber is your heart filled with golden
Light. However, my bond within your
Fire increases with each passing day.
It is medicine for my spirit to be elated
By your presence.
For it is your essence engulfing me
When storms explode within me.
My rage burns inside of me
With temperamental coals;
However, I shall bleed out my
Anguish when the kitten lulls
Outside my window in the night.
Her cries leave jagged wounds
Upon my heart forthcoming with
Sheer flight where all the Lord’s
Flock gather around his tomb.
For if only to embrace His spirit,
Will they energize their own light
Burning up their vessel.
I consume tangerines in the kitchen
And savor their sweet juices.
They tantalize my senses while
I absorb all nutrient brought
Forth by the Holy light.
If ever there was a junk
In my plight, I tossed it out
With refuse boiling my past.
For if only the light betwixt me
In dizziness in savage dreams.
Street lights burn up the darkness;
However, there is the peaceful
Existence breeding underground.
For it is none other than the life
Giving spirit quenching thirst.
Unburden my heart, oh Lord, so
I can prolong everlasting songs
In accordance to your light.
For these deeds not be misguided
By fraudulent stowaways exclaiming
Their own vespers belonging to their
Laid up in your clouds, I toss
And turn in the fluffy bed
Where dispatching my words
Is the congregated hall withheld.
© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2016