Movement

When all movement is painful
Fear rears it’s head
Demonstrably cheerless
It’s when one is led
Into a willingness
a consolation
That said
The sudden thought to stand
And to see
The mountains ahead
of one
Out there they be
An edge into suffering
Torment and pain
Weariness and anguish
Of being insane
Discomfort springs forth
With it’s evident pang
Indisposed to the rigour
The sounding doth hang

Angst-ridden
One’s mind wearied as can be
Woeful and careworn
Haggard is she
Anxious, her beauty
Brings joyf with its highs
In her hijab, her earrings
And Her beautiful eyes

Effusive is she
With the mountains beyond
With the soul at her core
Her smile I was fond
Of her enigmatic
vigour and zeal
Stirred by her
Moved by her
Just by how real

She is
So consumed by the light
As a flame
Inspired and enraptured
Devoured by the game
Of exuberant joy
Excitably
Her bountiful brilliance
Not lost on me