The real folk blues

https://www.facebook.com/shelina.smith.77/posts/126625105554885:0
The real folk blues

I am dancing into the pyre
constantly tormenting you
hearing my words echo and sway
into the luminous platitiudes.

Such courage in rough and beckoning
and such deliverance upwielding
But hope is a stream and a closet
whereas my life is beckoning.

Oh, where does the Purity Chalice glow?
Is it as luminous as the volgrat nor as listening
as Poseidon's shore?
I have but one love to live for,
and that is to write
to write stories that pretend, as well as
entries that are pretending.

How luminous a world I be, is my only cry
Indeed...how luminous a world I be...