Tiny Beads

The tiny beads of love thoughts
I carry with me
disbursed glitters to the winding roads
concealing crevices on the bend

The wind,
sometimes raging and disapproving,

it crippled me frequently,
dissed me upon the only path
left to choose where

no emblem of diplomacy,
no shade of candor.

Yet I mended my open wounds
from behind twinkling eyes.

Sometimes a stirring fowl
befuddled my course
to acquaint me with interchanging
silhouette of few human race

Grand was it all

...then cracking

When their entire ornaments roll,
glowworms spark atop
each and every wick of their soul.

But precious are the times
I stood on the cleave
and tiny bleeding hearts popped
with wings extended to move me.

These comprehend the mixture
of unspeakable emotions.

Another day is done.

The new orange-stang of air
consume my journey
back home.

Flowers started to bloom
-a suggestion of inconceivable intensity
to scribe a new conte in my heart

for what is most special and priceless
are the tiny beads of morals collected

sewed and arranged
to bond with love thoughts

a new armament redesigned.