I Almost Like What You Are Doing

Yet the beats sound sore of breath.

I come close, the edges hurt.
But that is just my skin.
Painted over with young weather,
And that dries. Soon
A river comes to closure
at an open field.

My feelings elevate to an informal recognition.
The repeat tones seem whole along the way.
Some altars once closed off from likely symmetry
are wild places of feeling,
Long as these vibrating willows.

If I learn to listen, I can happen
To forget I used to want you.
Now that I am near, I have changed course.
The path is evenly positioned between
Flawless flowers miniature, wild with hue.
I want to know sky's blue habitue.
I have been swayed. This earth
Is like my own. This most uneven town.