the lost essence and the likes

“Moving outside the tangle of fear-thinking living in silence.
The daze of gratitude for the self’s company.. Was a huge solicit..
Banters dying up within the sprouting seeds, passion darkens
The falling lines, the dead words, the lost essence…

The quest and quench altered, the words were proper but were binary
The desires of mental distraction from …, the silenced emotion.
The battles for the likes over the.., was the chase fought for, the others floored
Sensed the sense of not being insane while being true … but the other self..

Moments, times, matters, memories, efforts, left in a chomp
Abundance of familiarity and the acquaintance took over the far of reality..
Lurching in the truth was it ever their, may be too bleak.
The chase, the crawl, the screams, were not cared for nor seen nor heeded

The trance in the inevitable truth of the feeling was not…
The wrath in the words, acceptance of perception by the others..
The words supporting the venom, the assault was set, the familiarity took over..
The essence of the travels to tides, to rides, were missed,

But the likes and burgeoning tangle of the lost self of self’s thy..
The anguish stupor was their whenever the patch appeared..
Eyes thought darkened sparked and showed the two way out..
The other way seemed bundled with more joy, youth, charm, heed,

But was brought inevitably and might yet ignored.
So were the blows of the tides, shaking the backyard..
The leaf’s fell and were blown as the thoughts were dissolving,
Gardener used brush to paint it green, but the touch of life was pale..

Affluent clocks of acquaintance, had given a way within..
The other preferred to stand rock and never showed a way in and out.
The only magician new its way and was allowed in, true but yet faint.
Taking the passage to be rough, with difference of congeniality,

Alas something or everything common comes up..
The presence becomes absence, the claims turned to blames..
The words dried up but kept flowing steadily with familiarity the like..
The preferences turned as did the options turned up the matches were done.

The tree wasn’t showered was left over, for one with familiar traits and words,
Shedding the leaves standing tall it said the branches spread across..
For none but the one the blowing wind had brought the change
Yet the flying leaves fall and wish those words shall not come from the like for any two.

the way out..

If music be the food of love, words be the spice, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, yet not the desire and so die.
That strain again! it had a dying fall:
The dance on the floor the tunes falling over the ears,
The legs making moves the hands finding their thoughts,
The night sang to it so did it went so it did,
The silence of the long days, shouted on the night
Traveling across the longest itinerary to the one of our adobe..
Lost the way simply, as was lost with the company..
The distance never seemed so far so close was it,
Given the whole of the all was all their..
Oh, it came over my ear like the sweet sound
Essence of mere a physical presence but not the mental
I choosed to bring it up but was poped down..
Such pious were beliefs but not the words
that breathe upon a bank of violets, with the broken strings.
Stealing and giving odour! Were all set to vanish
Close but yet far running, flying, traveled to destination..
Exploring the abundance of familiarity, in and out, day and night