We know so little and of all the things in life, There’s no greater tool among us then love for neighbor, child or wife. It’s perfect in its nature and doesn’t want a thing, symbolizing its forever we choose to give a ring. There is no protection from love contagious and it’s free nothing greater to have pursue you, no better place to be than on the receiving end of kindness and regard for you and me. In peace we find a partner a lover or a friend and the Love we share together knits us tightly until the end. Sycamore in the desert you stand uniquely filled with the affluent power of joy embracing the love of all as family and friend.

Those tools I grasp as tongue for asp are far too weak to cut the cheek of the long and sleek deception upon the meek. To loss of letter we find that losing one’s mind to perhaps be better then to fall in the path of our own anger broiled by broth of world’s injury visited upon the week to the broad vision of Vetter. What tamed shrew bent to what heaven had meant then sent to dance the dallied fury of all the treasure spent upon taking those not intended to go where you’ve gone and went. Songs of bewildered few don’t crash through as lullabies do to waken the reluctant view in seeing the splendor of tomorrow’s remembering crew.

Why to loss of the one true power would we allocate second or hour scouring the countryside for the weapons of pride? You’ve fallen away with naught but odd things to say while feelings well polished escape leaving anthem at bay. We must stand and wait not so impatiently at the gate for the keeper to arrive with the ferry. Never so merry are the faces so very apt with wrinkle and frown when the whole workings turn around and begin heading for yonder side empty. Well kempt gent with whom these nights should be spent quite often was found to have lent us a smidgen of wonder. Grown fonder of faith which may not be shaped on a lathe rather fashioned by the ponderings and wonderings of children assuming they knew the truth before they left the gate.