This memory I endow with special purpose, to posture austere with unyielding gratitude.
I know now that nothing comes as morning, a paradox of such gentle resolve.

Awakening all time with vigor and lilting remorse, my casual sway deters me from laughing angels.
And I create angry sirens who conspire to steal my breadth.

Transforming into many things, my circle my lives of duality creating chambers of reflections.

So with gentle leaves in autumn light I see the spiral of heaven in hells cool waters all so close in similarity it robs my pride to confuse and tantalize me.