In the Apollonian

and Dionysian abodes

I hear nuances

that are never implied

how be they insipid

to the empty eye

Then my fingers disintegrate

into its silent voices

and I find Being the sanctuary

where the wave of a wing

is so very fertile

in its demonic syncopation

Like the harmony of the stars

that reign all wonder

which dares to ponder

the very majesty

of their charcoal infinity

For feelings are only feelings

and not one thought

can pervade its tender undulations

tautly burgeoning

behind the crevices

of any composure

For every second

is the soul of its breath

in the blood of its quivering

At the bottom of your knees

I`m the truth of your Divinity

but you don`t acquiesce with the hour

a lake of Requiem

unbuttoning just an idea

which was merely a brusque passing

like a mahogany sunset

where dwells the illusions of the sun

For feelings are only feelings

where tranquility is often found

at the bottom of a teardrop

that has no pocket

to commemorate its radiance

And a shoulder impoverished

has not been frothed

with the rainbow of a warm melody

whose stem is a bubble

absorbing the poignancy

But the Universe is a heartful

of glowing mind

undisturbed in its soliloquy

For feelings are only feelings

and what thought but none

can reflect what can`t be thought only felt