Ok, fine, alright, sure, and justified

Are you, as well?

Vow of the Winged Cycle

I will not be judged
by the shadows of my past
nor the illusions of my future.

I am measured by rhythm—
the pulse of my songs,
the breath of my wings,
invisible or clear.

In the morning, I vow:
I will manifest the proper symbols—
if not a cross, then a crystal,
if not a diamond, then a ring.

I believe in the cycle.
I rise, I fall, I rise again.

Time does not bind me.
It dances with me.

God rest,

God please,

Goddess,

God bless,

God knows,

Recedes,

God tests,

God’s grace,

God has,

Godspeed

Yet here I stand,

Or sit and wait,

I heard it all,

It’s not too late,

It’s not a sin,

To second guess,

But to everyone,

I’m unduly

Cruelly,

Sadistically,

These.

Just words,

Words in ink, in paper, and think,

I’ve finished the book,

Of the chapter (I wink)

Hey I don’t know why

You heard that I’d die,

But I heard it too,

So let’s just ensure

That the next step’s the cure

And rather,

Quite pure-ly succinct,

I blinked, all the time,

Until I would stop,

And give you a rhyme,

And it’s never over,

It’s just a cheap crime,

To get you to believe,

That everything’s fine,

Ok,

Justified,

Sure it’s all true,

But when I put it down,

I’ll still be alright.

It’s always a fight,

And I don’t know why,

Let’s try to stay sober,

Let’s try to say why,

Let’s wonder again,

Who we are or will be,

When it comes down to it all,

Sometimes we’re just… Unable to rhyme, unable to continue, I don’t know if I helped you, if this was ever able, but wondering if you, are a little unstable, if you needed my help, I probably would’ve, I know that I tried, and that you could’ve, I know there’s something, that I should’ve asked, I know something’s off-cantor, or that I would’ve asked, if I had not judged, and tried to get even, without even knowing, the tempo or seething, and maybe an angel, guided me around, maybe one holy, or one with a frown, and maybe he’s there, and he interrupted, maybe I’m sorry, and maybe I bluffed it, maybe there’s more, than mirrors and smoke, maybe there’s fruitless, fruit or awoke, and maybe in the end, there’s always a start, maybe you held it, maybe an art, maybe is maybe, more than what’s seen, can we just relent, and let it as been, for I’ve written to anyone, you or to them, there’s so many voices, and then sometimes again, and when I write clearly, I sometimes do know, that sometimes I’m moody, and sometimes I sow, and sometimes I planned, for something I was hoping, that would be a solution, to everyone’s moping, and maybe the person, who manipulates me, is doing it honestly, for something I see, that they have all noticed, but that I have not at all, that the summer has ended, and then there’s the fall, so people are hiding, alone in their dens, and people are slowly, counting to ten, and I might have done, this too many times, I’ve counted so many, in perfect perfect lines, that there’s almost no feeling, when I hear the words, and if you want a wish, it’s all that you have, because sometimes I think, like the train on the ave, and sometimes I’ll scream, stamper or whimper, but in this I know, there’s more than a whisper, but here is the end, of my double time, I’m going in steady, and you are just fine, and I love them all, despite the odd pain, this place is my home, without you again, and though I’ve wondered, and thought of you most, your invisibility power, is overpowered at most.