Inner Balms Within Calming Knolls

That space between courageous apathy
where I must believe within the soul lies,
peace bating calmness, the loveless implies
beyond the lulls beneath our gravity

of where exists the need, a rhapsody
unsung, implying daring thoughts: though wise,
a soul must feed off love, not love’s demise;
tranquil souls, pacify and atrophy.

Soothing scents of waning lives that slacken,
bittersweetness of sour ebbings subdued,
clamoring lullabies amplifying;

fittingly one among sights of blackened,
flickered respite, love’s pulsations imbued
against our souls’ hushes magnifying…