It is not a sin
Being an idealist
Being a realist or even
Being a dreamer.
We are all clocking at twelve
When pitching of every eleven hit their peaks
In every fight of romance of proof and subjection
Time is intense days are up at appearances
But not today
Even though time ticks individually
With each ticking eye
Soul of time within every soul differs
Leading visions fill up with adjusting positions
Is it possible Universe’s ambition will never be filled?
It is possible arch days will challenge Kitty seen and Ryker within
Time will partner with the Uniform intellectuality of my insanity
Profiling my profiting profile of prophets and magicians
Hidden within the empowered classic guard
of this glassy fluidity of reflection
Awaiting transitioning seasons
Cycles register their paths to me
Each day a choice for waiting to preserve a Felis catus of me
Or make a Panthera tigris of me
Being the first or last of the clan.
Miracles make me a member on arrival
A guest for heaven’s meal and noble loam’s performance
Glassy fluidity of reflection will move me
In nature of existence, value, and virtue.