Love, life’s breath. No icicle silhouette of frozen form. Warmth, blood, fuel existential fire. Unforced muse, into the river of destination flowing to fill the waiting container of memory. Fairness inept, anger misspoken and comfort customary to accommodating term. Fallen not from a perch erected to falsehood, but fully expectant of gathering arms below. These are the inclinations of expectant hope in Man’s mooring.

Charged as the ramparts of stolen betrothal. Acquiescence a fearing fable, knowing that the sands of time be blown apart in our assembly. There can be no quarter offered or accepted. As in dynamic tales of yesteryear, no room for stoppage. Rampage the tethered til lashings fray then the bond of captivity be torn asunder, leaving bare the hope in eternity’s wake. As seasons be drawn and quartered for age’s review, in mastery the prey taken for greater understanding. What is the Will of my making?

Plunge deep into the complex nature of each universe. We are found described in the swollen and pregnant flux of mass and acceleration. Born upon pages yet written, spelled out in word of our adoration, leaving nothing for repose, laying bare the heart of unperishing passion. From fabled resolve emerging from the garden’s of first fruit’s planting. Bounty and bud leaping forth to light and sunburnt stage. We ask for naught for all is freely given. Caught up in the wind’s gone chasing time.

There is no horror in that which is perfect only awe and angst as treble master’s base’s cleft. From what day is it that we have been delivered. Not feared but respected to kneel so kindly at the Throne of God. These are not whispers but roars of love for which their is no shy appeal, to be heard and remembered as some would say undying. Waxing thick the intention of man’s standing upon a hill belonging to our favor. In Just requite we fought not for valor, land or power but to announce the immortality of Love.