Understanding in Periods of Halves

                                    I looked in my mirror and so nothing of times identifiable

                                    Markers, only those eyes holding wisdoms doors smiling

                                    At the distance of ticking sounds in melodic tones, my ears

                                    Of changed clay were gifted to feel inside of sights breaths.

                                    Understanding fully but in periods of half increments, knowing

                                    The root-mass of my existence is factually my brothers breath,

                                    In life’s spreadable growths in foundational, kinetic, rhythmic,

                                    Melodies knowing the wider the spread the greater the connection.

                                    Is there a truth found inside the sounds of divine love? Or

                                    Are we just caught in a cycle of mirages, self-defined by our

                                    Strongest desires, seeing everything as beautified as we want

                                    Or as dense and polluted as our own noses can smell?

                                    I wonder if it is correct in my own mind to question homes

                                    Authenticated language, believing our oldest youngest parent

                                    Has an awesome never-ending relationship, understanding

                                    Breaths longevity is where true love begins.

                                    The widening is dying to self by choosing to live inside the

                                    Light of longevities breaths in loves beginning of actualized

                                    Inhaling’s of exhaling aliveness, opening to the full potential

                                    So as to assist willfully in the ingathering of breaths life.

                                    I looked in my mirror and so nothing of times identifiable

                                    Markers, only those eyes holding wisdoms doors smiling

                                    At the distance of ticking sounds in melodic tones, my ears

                                    Of changed clay were gifted to feel inside of sights breaths.