Flow, Beloved. Flow.
Be a river whose stream knows
Its gravity. Yours
Is me? Making it flow back
To where a home is. Within—
—
A river is a river only when the stream is moving to a point of a pulling force. Don’t get stuck or blocked because that is when you lose your being as a river.
There is time when Mr Grey is reluctant to evaluate others’
Actions,
Motions,
Emotions,
Notions—
For as much as the head’s dullness, true colours won’t lie
And untrue intentions will reveal.
In the mode of working class,
Putting layered of dignified masks in silence,
Enchanting intelligent chorus in public,
Smirking in the dark.
Beloved dedication
Decorated with
Stabbing behind—
….
Doesn’t it matter?
No—
Take a time
As long as Time wishes to be with you:
Hiding behind true Smile,
Singing in the Heart,
Reciting poems in the Soul.
Someday
When the floor invites you to dance,
Offering the best music of Life,
Then down to the floor!
Dance until the Light fades away
Which is never.
Now
Observe all the moves
Of the masks around you
Which will undo themselves
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