A Crackling Soul Poem by Hans Preciado

The crackling sound
Against the floor
By the passing car
Though not very far.

The dark of night
The stare of sight
The gentle breeze
Is nothing more
Than a passing
Light.

Solitary thought is very
Sought, though
Before it’s freely
Taught, it is freely seen
Off of the “truly
Yours” magnetic scream

Although there is a little pink,
What many think of
That little blink
That sunk in our oath,
Out the path of wrongness,
The men
The women and
what ever made
All the loaf,
And what others do, as slavery,
we unwillingly won’t.