I sit with my thoughts away from the day
Appearing as feelings, with intermittent
Play; moribund heart? Or restful soul?
Evaluate not, that's the trick for the light:
Weight disappears when deconstructed gears
Roll without motive, unbound from the fears
In tombs we write stories, about how there's
Us, tears about death, a cathartic fuss; accept
This world and after, could but I will, resume
In the cavern, no light and yet still, fighting
Is paused and then altogether stopped, filling
A patience with neutralities wrought.
Roman Ryan 