Teen Ink

My softly touched voice doesthrill
     to the aimless ether'srhythmicsway;
          this(un)reality;of
               circlesgently growing, gentlyclimbing
               sodiscreetly, slowly finding chance to meet,we
               tumbleone across another, cross nighneighbor
          crosseach brother
As a stone skipped across the water, as the
reverberatingripples
                            ofa sighing
                              wistful
                                   day.
'neathveil of dark
     the artisttreads, his soul the womb of man,
flowerlike, his
     truth is born and daydriedby somesun.
remembrance
     of lightsthought seen, he alone commands; yet
noman cantrace
     the dreadful, primalmacrame of man

I've yet to feel the fullwarmglow
     Of life distilled andstabilized;
          Oh,the languid sea of time-
               daysdefy all man's blind eyes, perhapsalone
               hewades their tide; the sandy foam stoutlydenies
               thebeach below yet man can feel the land'ssupport:
          divinerapport;
As the beggar void of sight, manstumbles
     and depends uponthe
                             kindness ofthe
                                   strangersin
                                            his
                                                night.