A whisper
an aspiration
words coagulating in a pool of brilliance
yet everything

Keyboard black
etched in white symbols
Mind Cimmerian
sketched in gray symbolisms
elusive as a thought on a hurricane emotion
problematical as an individual raindrop desiring autonomy

Called to indite wisdoms, truths, pains, longings, passions, fears, triumphs, dreads…
all a whisper
Irritated by negligence
power wrested from the word cloud in one’s mind
limited by imperfections
perfected by the same

Know this:
Love exists
A vast, gigantic well which may only be truly tapped by conscious surrender
Love abides
An unfathomable profundity one only discovers once ego quells under capitulation
Love flourishes
A garden flowered by passions enormous and bantam
Love lives
Not only in Keats’ Grecian Urn scenario but in each breath, thought, desire, longing

For there lives not a human who at some stage did not wrestle with love’s mystery
Love’s power rests strongest in those who embrace and yield to their innermost truth

The Call
She beckons
Every moment
Every thought
Every scent
Every notion
Every heartbeat
Every desire
Every fear

The Calls awaits fingertips,
Dancing waltz’s, cha cha’s, foxtrots, passions
Flitting the black oasis of plastic confinement imprisoned whithin the white symbols
An ear to hear
A heart to connect
A gentle boomerang response
A desire for a recompensive echo rooted in the multilingual aspect of love itself

The Call of life
of passion
of writing
abides in love

This world crushes love.
Destroys the will to love.
Inhilates the roots of love
The Call
The Spark
The passion
continues against all odds…