THE COMMUNING RHYMES

Will my bones and flesh commune with me,

To uphold my weak hands and feeble knees,

I tremble with fear my labour is free,

For my soul shall die and my spirit cease.

•••••

I have searched and known the taste of arrows,

I have seen and trod upon the barrows,

Where the mighty are called back to their nests,

Man after man, welcomed as a lone guest;

Now shall I tell of the ease in decline,

The evident rage and vices of wine,

Of small beginnings and enormous ends,

That strangles life off the soul that it rends;

And just as a dog feeding on its poop,

So does wine faults every soul it recoups,

Delight to the flesh and grief to the soul,

Orgy that besets and hardly lets go; 

Shall I contend in the chambers of hope,

With arms akimbo waiting on the ropes,

Suffer my breath and lay me in my grave,

Till fate shines its light and grant what I crave;

Or comfort myself to eat of this dish,

To stretch forth my hands to hasten this wish,

Make the time like as of butter and bread,

That when shame calls I would hope to be dead;

But death shall tarry with hope by its side,

Drinking away to my shame far and wide.

•••••

All good things are beautiful to behold,

The daylight and sweet tales that twilight told,

The beauty of nature in clear waters,

And sound of music and constant chatters;

Like angry hounds just released from its cage,

So does thoughts run races of violent rage,

It looses the bonds of wild assumptions,

That patience be sold to strange presumptions;

In whose hand lies wild seeds of discord,

That he may sow to the prey that affords,

To feed contempt and pour out his ire,

And pull out a ring from amidst the fire;

My eyes have thus seen and my ears have heard,

Of how loose thoughts could so lead unto dread,

A height as of heaven and depth as of hell,

With shackles in hands that soon rings a bell;

A notion of woe is just like a swing,

That goes forth and back to work out its wings,

Disguise could be dressed as show of might,

But this rock leaves cleft for sons of the night;

Let no man say that he is unaware,

That wisdom isn't all about grey hairs.

•••••

Ask the fowls of the air and it shall speak,

And the beasts of the field, it shall be quick-

To tell of the need to never worry,

For what will be will be in a hurry;

Is revenge not like a deadly trigger,

That sends forth bullets to hold another,

The comfort he took to war as he rose,.is the same weapon that'd bolster his foes;

Who is without sin from when he was young?

Save maybe a man who cut off his tongue,

Yet men who are known for terrible vice,

Possess within them a sweet paradise;

I shall set my heart right upon my palms,

Eat of my bone while singing sacred psalms,

That by the time shattered hope gives a call,

I will be safe from the shock waves and all;

Diamonds are rare it makes for great surprise,

Rarer are men who would give good advice,

If a diamond could so cause bulging eyes,

How much more wrought should man who is wise;

Now oh break me with thoughts my soul this hour,

Pour out thy tears, my bone needs a shower.

•••••

There's a secret that we all under-use,

My hands in your hands without being a ruse,

Strength of unity and power of bond,

One that shakes the Earth and moves even God;

To feel like a moon with the colours of stars,

And have all your dough in one single jar,

To drive up ahead not taking a curve,

Is what our Fathers had known to be love;

But branches are dried from flames of the youth,

For vain is the vine; unripe is the fruit,

That proceeds from off the branch of the tree,

A sharp love of lust so frightful to see;

What years do man have that he should be jinxed,  

A riddle for kings and needle for sphinx,

This wrath is wicked and this act is grave,

Crease me with wrinkles and leave me a stave;

Thick clouds descend for to rest on my breast,

To rain in my heart that I may not rest,

To paint my spirit and naked my soul,

Trauma, a tout, would sure take all its toll;

Snares are around us and also beneath,

Commune with your soul and don't cease to breathe.

•••••

Every soul craves for to dine with pleasure,

But bitterness has prepared the table,

All soul would sit and taste a full measure,

Of how meat and bone could be unstable;

Shall man be cast down by this darkened spot,

Formed from the heavy weight that he carries,

Let's so commune with our soul hopeful thoughts,

For as long as this flesh could still tarry.

#El_Magnifico™