Conquer

You conjure dreams
of absent time
and solid streams.

Where rampant min...

To be the muse of a poet

is to stain the canvas of time

with your essence....

The crowd is silent

with suspense awaiting awe.

Well, let us begin!

In isolation,

time feels at rest,

like frozen waterfalls

and static ho...

Light kisses the lake,

in one spot more than others,

with routine retreat.

Poetry impersonates our chaotic conscious,

eagerly spilling ink on vacant pages.

Lost in conversation,

I’m on a first name basis

with my anima.

Quarantined in the house,

conversating with myself.

Formulating plans for ...

My hands lay firm on feverish glass.

I can taste my elation as it scatters along the...

I

defy living.

My

mind is drifting 

through light...