A Raging River of Mine

             I have traveled to a raging river of mine

            with no arousing aromatics
           with no static size, only naked cries
       unknown, a seemingly seamless abyss
       giving birth to pride and death to mind

       with each step a hit and each stone a miss

       there are no delusions of respect

        nor institutions for a translational dialect

       just violent depths of treacherous clefts

        sent by the daft and the deaf to give breath to the mess

        there is neither steadfast breadth nor a simple gift of width

       for this raging river of mine

        it is all but known

       and I fear this unknown

        I fear the white rapids

       I fear the sharp rocks

      I fear the hidden melodious tone

       that plays between

        each tick and each tock

         of the clock within my reality

           I have bearded the keeper of this raging river of mine

             always with resolve but never in resolution

               each strike of my hand becomes inanely inert; an inhibition

               crafted by the fear, from the fear and for the fear;
                a feast of frivolous proportions

                  my strike is struck down, for i am weak

                         weak with imbalance and fat with the guzzle of my own inhibition

                        the Light is made within

                       my truth is inside my sin

                      health is the melded metal idol of self

                       the love is inside, likewise in my mind

                      and in my eyes, beauty is the beheld  

                     peace is in me, not without