"Fading

So thorough the reticence
In a guise of "itselfness"
That as good goes in trance...
And when awakened berzerks
The dancers dream
Cutting sight for a One
Not dull or wide
But thin air spatials relaxed
To fears of this to that
Received as "Manna" truly hidden

Poison for the Prince sounding reek
That as chooser chooses the down
To fast chutes and the up of quick
Until horns blasting
He’s here...

Potentially for you in servitude
And then for self he’s less
For you, but here...comfort

Compassion on other becomes
Fire next time hardness
(Punitive measure) that sings
In the range of potential
The song of necessity bloom"

--Ovid Neal