Riding Fate

I'm back again, riding fate.

My writing is enlightening like lightening to the face.

I keep spiraling out of faith.

I keep a knife under the ice when I'm piloting out of space.

I keep writing rhymes, dividing lines, silencing snakes.

It's frightening to have your mind turn to idoling fakes.

Cycling through time I'm finding heightening states.

Liken to grace, like fire or brighter days.

I'm always looking for my lighter to light the ways.

I look for minor change.

I should write a book; my mind is strange.