Blessed by the forgiveness of things so grave and dour. My colleagues convinced of their brilliance they nod and shake in agreement having solved nothing, unaware that they’ve left the cupboard wide open. Tell them the things left for takers. Whisper in weakness of the strength they’ve left unaccepted. Offerings of candid bliss and misgiven appropriation. Scoundrels of sea and host left to scour cabins and window boxes for the bevy they laid broad abandon. But they never expected what we had so patiently expanded. In the leaving of nations we sought the portals of sand to escape the boredom of tomorrow.

Time passing is not the passages of time. Just as airways may not be fed so the leaving of galaxies never cross the Momentary bridge spanning vacuum’s unknowable. What then of days and nights romanced in wonder as dream and wishes meshed with the prayers of those stranded. Some seek folly others pure logic as the moon hides its eyes from the shadow. These are not the tremors of exception or the fodder of mathematician’s laying bare the foundations and boson’s. But the immature wisdom of those who found in gossip more profit than the sweet blessed moments of sharing.

These are the days to be spent in fury, knowing passion and quiescence have long lost their pleasure. Rigid moments of stark bare reason and reality’s upset, demanding a clarity of purpose and imagination. Yes, the imaginary basis of time mixed with distance and mass made light and flexible to fold in the thoughts of its pilot. .Squeezing molecules through the tube of Stellar and solar conjunction to function as pathways to places unreachable. For God has forbidden this sorcery, so we must make easy things beyond reason and chance. These things have always the realm of possibility beyond the ability of men forced to dream of nightly recap, shut down by the burdens of a world absent desire to understand the things made to us beyond sovereign.

We know the end from the beginning through our relationship of Him who made for us time. I am a snapshot, a sequence of notes forming a figure in dissonance. Shaped by the absence of folly, the disambiguation of truth beyond contest. Fabled yet fancied to the simplistic seat in the corner to review all that scurry through age. Observing without judgment those things that occur knowing some shall be shaped for the Godly and others for destruction purposed in creative works of thoughts beyond the whimsical understanding of robots and kings. What then is the upset or offense when eternity lays parked at reef? What chalice may contemplate payment beyond the combined iniquity of man? Payment so grievous it swallows all of humanity in illusion promising end to dream and mandate.

There are no monarchs when free men hold campaign and candor. For kings unnecessary to men who pay homage only to the unseen mastery and wisdom of God. Where and why have we come chatter of science or languages that have lost meaning when considering that beyond the Most High? What promise offered by creatable things when that which would make them has already explained the outcomes and prudence? How unnecessary the pain expressed or offered for opinions of those found in squalor, convincing themselves or worse yet catering to polling of peasants to pronounce themselves masters of nothing and no one. All hail the sky swept travails of men elevating themselves to stature without legacy. There is no need for greed when all are well fed and depend fully upon promise to feed their imagination and purpose.