Pocket Peace Poem by aric wilsie

Pocket peace
And I feel
Like crying
Feel like
Another bee
Er... rather
Another vice
Just like
The one
Who sleeps
Wanting motions
Craving things
That fall into
A fleshy place
Dead sink
Floating away
As the window
Moves by
The view
Stays constant
With early seeming
And familiar want
Of forbiden fruit
That a
Overheard voice
Promised
All around
Slowing locamotion
Breaking stride
And a
Final stop
In the middle
Of a
Song fade out
Recognizing
The haunting
Of a
Familiar face
Catching on changes
Taking place
Somewhere that
No ones
Ever been taken
Except in
Their dreams
Of returning away
To hearts
To minutes
To thoughts
Of another
Body of water
Another turn
Just begining
To see
A holy birth
Around a
Roaming sun
Left alone
And coming
Home