Being free from fear turns flesh to fire.

Willing, whirling, crashing then obliterated,

drifting into doomed and dying longing.

Guessing, groaning, burrowing in your grace.

Screams sighing into swift, solitary silence.

Together, apart, filled with aching awe.

Desperate, lost in devilish delight.

Immutable, intertwining, injured again.

Maddening moans, magic in a moment -

one, two, millions, a lifetime.


  • L. B. Mek

    erm, I'm a just say - I too, am a fellow lover of words
    an intriguing read - certainly engaging and somewhat challenging
    and in this warped age of SEO (search engine optimisation) - threat to language, as we know it
    possibly a prophetic foreshadowing of what awaits insta poetry's, cultural infiltration
    at the bottomless grave of modernity's evolutionary need, for escapism fuelled regression..
    (to quote a brilliant mind: 'and that's all I gottta say: bout daaat')
    thanks for sharing dear poet

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