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upon reading your poem
Tremor^

and this what I think:
when reading your seamless
writing connecting of moments
of immortality,

only one question remains,
why, does our own writing
not approach the level of your exquisite precision
soul's *******?

is it our
own immorality
that permits our soon-to-be-
discontinued pretenses,
wherein, whereby,
we can still believe
our own words should be
deservedly disowned,
disinherited to the
scrap heap heated,
burned, eradicated
and
why do we even try?

sigh
>.<
dare not read it twice,
lest my inked fingertips
surrender to my
indecent indecision
For once
         I am
               truly
Standing
         on the
               sands of time
In the shadows that
        come casting down
                Where Joseph's ,
                 Jacob's and Moses's memory is bound

The air is
            warm
                as humidity allows
           buried in salt
              and sand the bones are endowed

Dare to breathe
           the eternal breath
                cast down
in perpetual death

Walk as one
         in cryptic thought
The allusional truths
         the secrets sought

One is moved
         by the power
               and awe
The things I considered
         from
                all that I saw
Phoenix

 Rising from the ashes of our love.

 You spread your wings and fly,
 Soaring into eternity,
while I dissolve 
into ash below you.

The Phoenix consumes all it touches.

It is the price of immortality.

And only she will remember, 
how brightly I burned for her.
She no longer soars
Agony in every stroke
She beats broken wings
over & over again.
i am born.
the ****** carcass
i emerge from
the flesh;
true immortality.
the wounds
i have suffered
turn me inside out;
plum red
and beating.
i am the deliverer of
epilogues, beginnings
of prologues
but i can’t remember
again & again
if this is a curse
or what they call a blessing.
i wish i could savor
a

satisfying

end
copyrighted, poemsbyjewel (2025).
At mercy's feet a coward came
Revoke the spell that brand me shame
Immortal cloak, With cold embrace
Preserve this soul unlinked from grace

Confess thy struggles says the thought
A thousand deeds undo no drought
To wash thy guilt complete with haste
Anoint with almond, pray no waste

(Urge)
A past repeat, if time recall
Invoking every shameful fall
Controlled by lust, my handy deeds
deny this groin, its pleasure needs

(Thought)
Your reckon day, awaits its fate
To settle heaven's pass at gate
by night, an hour of death will prey
it's waste of time to weep and pray
Admit your struggles - good deeds alone can’t fix a deep inner emptiness ( dryness).
Seek forgiveness urgently - accept the blessing or healing offered (anointing oil) and don’t waste it
It lives in silence
The quiet joy
In sudden beauty
You've felt before
It's out the window
Now in your head
A slight restorative
A hunger fed
It'll make you smile
Against your will
And push you on
For good or ill.
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