Karma Poem by Jason PraTT

My 'genius of gentle secrets'
The first set of keys to the vault
Whereas eavesdropping whispers
Muzzle in the drowning rain

Thus darker gospel oak
In the eve of the night
By aureole and soft mischief
In fun and frolic nearby

After hours of wisdom
Placed through each room
Upon sweet evenings
With beds and blankets

Such haunted decisions
Waist-deep in the words
To break the spoken silence
At confession and cloisters