Lava Lamp

I gaze a lava lamp; and drift—a soul’s fire. So magnificent—

This thought; and so large—a dove’s heart. I exercise joy;

And nestle pain. Such contradiction: or rather, paradox. My

Chin, an upwelling: my mind, screaming: humility. Some type

Of pretzel; and some type of maze. I want of memory—to

Hold a tender hand; and mother deigns a tear. I thought to hide

So well: but a little girl asked: “Are you spiritual.” “Out the

Mouths babes”: mother would say. I gaze a lava lamp; and drift—

A soul’s fire. So esoteric—this Love; and so deep—Father’s

Voice. Indeed, a slant—a mystic wind; and flexi steel—an

Unbelief; but ever a bending bar. They glaze the aftermath; and

Grip the damage. I plead the gestalt: read the entire book; and

Then pass judgment. So well I wore the sorrow; and so freely—

Played pretend. I now gaze a lava lamp; and drift—a soul’s fire.