Replete am I, amid this lonesome bliss,
Encoiled within my broken, fleshly shell.
I am sealed within, by a writer’s kiss.

Unfurled Orchidaceae Kafkaesque.
Sepals veined with secret, all to dispel.
Replete am I, amid this lonesome bliss.

Screaming from within, fearing the abyss.
Spinning colours like fine-webbed carousel.
I am sealed within, by a writer’s kiss.

Sunlight glanced my path, to not go amiss,
Alighting dark holes in which others fell.
Replete am I, amid this lonesome bliss.

I endure another swing of solstice,
Darkness bleeds to Light’s vigoroso swell…
I am sealed within, by a writer’s kiss.

I have been granted nothing, but for this:
Release of mind so the tide does not quell.
Replete am I, amid this lonesome bliss…
For,
I am sealed within, by a writer’s kiss.

• R. L. King
  

via Amid This Lonesome Bliss | Lyrical Love.