breath of grace

the eye at the door looks back at the room where i sit with my pen of relief the standing, the falling the settled are set and the words that come quickly i keep they release the tame, two beat strident and true to portray in a metre stepped out and an uninspired word or excessive verb flakes down to the dust at my feet and the rhythm that comes and the magic that flies brings patterns i wish to embrace like flocks that may glide or schools that may dart or herds that may run with the beast with passages lain, new shapes array to foretell or observe or describe emotion may grow, inspiration may flow as a stream from steep mountains reside as a stream from steep mountains reside as a stream from steep mountains reside uh and the writing that heals is an unction revealed all the magic of words in a line as when colours come painted and craving is sated i know the words i've just written aren't mine…