Esse est percipi
Soft silk between the warmth of dew is laid
like grass which floats beneath the breeze of time
which slows the breath of lovers. Serenade
surrounds the flowing waters in sublime
intoxicating visions, touched with dreams
where legs of silken stones immerse desire,
where drowning brings to life, where motion streams
its actions by emotions which require
the pain of blood and birth, of blood and death
to feed the rapid rise of love’s embrace.
Where aspiration breathes its final breath,
becomes the dissipation of the grace
of flesh. Divine in nature, we believe
that that which is is that which we perceive.
That form which forms her flesh and fills her skin
with heat like passion flowing from its source
subsumes convictions deeper than within
her heart, through which her passions run their course.
That form is strength which beauty overlays,
which forms her beauty, strengthening the ties
of trust in solid motions, in the ways
her form responds to that which underlies
her strength. Her form is beauty: soft and strong,
like reaching for a star beyond her sight;
she trusts her will to move her strength along
that higher path where beauty can unite
dichotomies of contradicting strengths
and love endures beyond eternal lengths.
There is no karma, only moving on
to love and beauty, strength and gift. The day
before today is yesterday and gone,
and yesterday is more than miles away
from how I train; this road will tell you more
than words. I train this body, bold and bright
while other mediocrities implore
communities of losers to unite
in vanities of words. My legs do not
hear anything but rhythms of the road
which pound a syncopation you forgot
could make your inner victories explode.
Like whispered gossip words, the distant din
I leave behind; my purpose is to win.