June 14, 2016 at 8:04 pm

Again within me is that muse awoken.
That conserved that retreats at every touch,
Leave me in my somber, let me reveal nothing.
Shall I again be touched?
Touched by the arm called casted?
Shall I again be touched?
O leave me, let me wallow in my solitude,
Let the doors be short in,
Let all airs be again fresh.
Oh, shall I write,
Of the untold inspection,
Of outward expressions.
Oh, shall I speak,
Speak of the emptiness without
And meditate the vine within?
Oh, let mine be praise,
For within I see liberation,
Given from the alter of grace.
For the road ahead,
I know not off,
But within I feel the grip.
Oh leave me,
But don’t go,
Because you are a reflection of Me.