Beside every spark of action,
Mind entangles the body
And as the body longs,
The mind cries in half-tamed anger.
When the heavens break and rain comes pouring down,
Wetting the lone figure, shrouded in uncertainty,
My tower, in which I've watched the storms,
Blazes high in flames of attrition.
So many passed this vision by,
Looking at their feet,
Scribbling words they could not know
On lurid skin of those beneath.
There was one, who stopped in his tracks,
Dropping the quill in guilt,
But what was written
Has already burrowed into the mind,
Grasping and quelling sparks of possibilities.
