jonna

How much wiser you can get
When you learn to live the thought
That every pain is lesson
And everyday you’re taught

What wisdom made you feel
In pursue of peace you preach
That peace is just so still
Still you find wanting to reach

To the chaos that will ruin
The perfect world you’re brewing
In that perfect world you find
It’s only the pain that was doing

What nothing else could do
The way it robs your thinking
& lets you fully feel
What a storm it is to sink in..

How far you crave to see or hear
A shape, a prayer, a voice to steer
A face, a form, woven façades
You beg for god to wear a mask.

But a space alone, unlit, unnamed,
Is too immense for most to claim.

I bloom beyond your sculpted throne,
I roam where silent truths are grown.

For more than most shall fail to feel me,
The truth too raw, too wide, too searing.
You lack the vision it takes to carry
The light that shines can leave you weary

To find, uncover, uncave, unlock
The gods unlatched from maps and clocks

Not blood or bone, not carved or caught
But one that rests beyond your thought.

You’re god’s fountain. Heaven’s sprinklers of brilliant ideas. The gift of the Angels towards mankind’s short-sightedness, the catalyst for a more beautiful genesis, a bright sparkle moving through a blind chasm. It’s in the dust of your bones, the co-ordinates of a place, far beyond your land of birth, where your destiny calls, longing to touch hands with your own, for it has seen in another life, the depths of your ambitious influence.

Do not deter, from prismic shields of darkness, that aim up high closing the world’s eyes to the beautiful skies. It’s not your role to enforce everybody likes the rain, only that it reaches, everywhere it can.

Be Rain, be Tremors, be Tsunamis that flood the earth, be what god saw you at your peak.

Rivers of Change flowing through the Valley of Comfort bringing an inescapable Channel to Grow. The feeling of Nothingness transforms to something more sublime as Love becomes a Thing to Share as Rain, instead of Holding It back like an Arrow, only to be aimed at the Most Remembered of Entities, finally to Let go hoping it would land.

Refugees riding Rowboats finding a new home amidst these Valleys, looking at Flowers blooming at Banks that touch both the Blues of this World. The Drifters that came, from the other side of the Mountain, know the Love for this pretty landscape, for only they know the emotions when this beauty escapes.