When I become less

Is it easy to strike a note
With you, is it easy
To sing full throat?

Everytime I think I could
Sing with you a few lines
Or pick up with you those buds
That had fallen off untimely shrugged
From trees by the tempest strong,
A few hundred eyes singe me,
And I cease to be
What I could have become-
The cool breeze, the prescient one
Which had sent your smell from the painted horizon
So crimson red, so rhyme like inclined,
Everytime I think I could
Think of You, the Timeless,
And worship You, robed in white,
The Heavenly trance grips a hold on me,
And a thousand lightyears I travel
To meet my past, my living sense
Evades me, I embark upon the passage of numbness,
And I become less.


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