I, Bearer of Fruit...
Kinshala =
It is not merely a question
of Time,
not just a fragment of tangent
rhyme
but a sincere sensation -
an internal oration,
of angels old and knew
who upon meeting you
blew the truth of trumpets
in my tingling ears,
to announce their overjoy
that I have searched for years....
So Kinshala, Kinshala
(I must twice repeat)
for when my heartfly flutters nearby
It doth often skip a beat,
Claiming nervous erratic clamor,
for
You've broken my heart free
with a soul hammer,
allowing Kinshala inside
where You now, and forever
reside...
--------------------------------------------------
and on thoughts that co exist:
let me now start a list,
of daydreams and brilliant reveries
I have wondered in the trees
of knowledge in yr eyes,
(impossible to surmise)
for you haven't left my head
though when asleep
(or if stone dead)
Kinshala yr soul I keep
in worlds, in words ingrained
(unreality to explain),
for
when hearing the voice of wisdom...
She is echoing yr name....
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