RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Fruition Of Intellect
Silence calling to the wilderness hiding within me, penetrating beauty, flowing carefully inside without stopping.
Signals sending information in the air, being born again through a religious experience.
Settling into a remorseful concept, respecting it's presence, even though it's coaching me in grief's lifetime habits.
Wallowing soundly in a semi-circle, enjoining grey matter as it focuses entirely on what is being seen in desert skies.
Raining down, falling through clouds, comes beautiful music, pounding on all my senses interiorly.
Bringing to fruition, every particle of intellect subject to my wishes.
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