It seems to be

a day to be inspired

Sparked by the fire

Leaning into souls

Deepest Desires

currents and waves approaching

Down the wire

A rod strikes

illuminating the illusive itch

To see in the dark

Storms beget owl eyes

Ancient scabs longing

to be scratched

Coordinates foretold

but not yet a match lit

Geography, mistily disguised

Of Gray matter

lost, forbidden

(been lost or hidden)

Comes often as is passed

Alas the brass instrument!

guide Whom knows

their way

Around words

and listens with a deaf ear

As the winds stroll over

The last landing of dust

Screening ships of script

Lay not to waste

enamored elocutions

Liquidate the handicap of haste

Behold! an astute gallery of recreation;

Glorious rewarding pastime

Mysterious scroll

The length of time

magic Or myth

verbose Divine

4.1.23