Trying to be full attracts flies and all manner of indoctrination, folly and supposed sustenance from the feeble and the dark. The depths of masquerade invite the layered and the slight. Hands fast, openings determinedly exploited by the hungry and the opportunistic. No innocence left in the cached hues of Peet and bog. Buried to be lost to recognition and forgotten by the flowers of morn. We are kin to noon and abhor the hour of chant and curse.

Thespian with reluctance is a man who tells truth when lies are in the script. Anodized by walking through fires that neither burn nor tarnish but brighten to reflective countenance. In the quest to be repeated I shout sharp tales and livid lines of imaginary vintage, but few hear and less retain or second. A stout Amen springs from rear of the forgery. Will he want or won’t he will to do what the bill retains?

In the glass he sees the seas and feels the breeze as the nighttime tease’s morning. As dolphin leapt and dark things crept in from the shadowed forest. All sought joy, both girl and the boy wanting nothing more that wanting and waiting for nothing more than everything they’d been promised. Overwhelmed is not reason for revolution but seeking the comfort of the beveled edge. Solace in loving beyond measure, with the reserved pleasure awaiting me at mid state’s crossing. Left dried and over done by a warm bout of sun that split the winter wide open, there is no mooring for the man soaring the skies of hereafter, dashing parsecs through Orion. Star ward to the brisk running rivers of sunlight and dream.

What kept you screamed the clock having lost grip on the soul of man? What drivel tales will be told of the bold run you made to escape the shadow of the sun? Into relief I pass all passion and power to find the bold comfort of these days spent in delivery. Launching into magic, not sorcery of spirit but the things beyond deep thinking. To see the dreaming heart of God. He imagined me in a thousand different seasons with a million melted hearts standing against the carpeting waves pummeling my glass to crimson valor. For Love is the embrace of those beyond control of time, those days of wonder lost to grip of man or angel. The roads beyond the moon leading into endless sky where birds have led us longing.