The Secret I Keep Poem by Job Laz

Beyond the cascading bars of my heart
A portion of my root lies
Like pure dust sleeping undistilled,
In its depth reins a birth of deadened solicitude
For my resonating mind
Which blushes with crimson
As if it were a crystal piece

Within the grapple of unsaid words
Slumbers in a grandeur of rash signs
That stays vogue on my once-virgin frame
Like an inferno it races my bid to ground
Spirited like chivalrous Hector upon blood field

In a train of distant valleys
Quakes forth the rustling divine,
The edge of my conscience
Wails through the brass gates of evasion
That raptures my childhood sway against
The brooks of time,

Like the conjured memories
Of heroism gained from bloodless combat
I beheaded the shooting rush
Which called out to my revel tone
To recede unto the aging shire.