No being does ever deeply sense
in belongingness' absent walls
to whether guard or what illusion
before identity ever falls;
for what character's characterized
by never matching its own pieces,
its cold spaces--the heart of some
rather stolen but old kisses;
only never what's independent,
what years forgave to firmly form
discarded, mended, hated, ended
no great becoming was only born;
for what time be loved ticking
if not presence to ever fill
what's there belonging to only longing
when time's own ticking--never still;
I shall be somewhere truth
is never constant as it belongs,
never my pedestal, my sailing ship
to fear the sailor--not amongst;
but home metamorphosis
my curiosity could so foster;
to no forever sworn infinity
no promised ending's ever after;
only cherished inseparability
by whoever believes same sort
of what craziness or plain inconstant;
beneath consistency moving forth,
how secluded may this heart,
it beats on plotted twist dependence
or farther skies and hidden kingdoms,
still secret heaven's its independence.
