Feeling ill daily, often prolonged,
This festering wound binding my eyes,
Closing off perceptions past nature,
Travel down this mountain pass,
Wearing only these spiritual robes,
Attempting to break the barrier,
Carrying a limp figure cradled,
Acute or obtuse in the total breath,
As it slips out and becomes visible,
In this cooled winter air,
Crisp, as a fresh apple, and refreshing,
That turn turns again in terms of internal,
Shifting with a swift accuracy,
Which leaves me with something new to learn,
Climbing down that cliff all adrift,
Wishing there was a true ending.
Now question if you made the right choice,
This direction denied inspection through this voice,
Lay down, victim, to this chosen path,
Don't dwell on what could have been,
Let not one tear fall in the name of this,
No matter how it is to crave her kiss.
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