Chomping at a bit ill fitted to my bite. Working puzzles in the dark, hoping with candor to impress the Queen. No service shall solicitate gravitas and certitude. Only mild wisdom finds freedom in folly, laughing upon the uproarious films of one’s own missteps, down the back steps in flight to find accommodation in reason. Prioritizing the forgotten, the misdirected and the egoistic. Sheltering from a storm that just won’t leave the stage, quivering the trees looked on in wonder. In the misty dawn one rode home to the smell of molasses and birchwood.

Where the sky befriends each cloud. Found loudly humming the melody to something beyond scope or comprehension. An old song sung brightly with colors not yet welcomed to the rainbow. But in each prison there remains a bird dreaming, of escape, no grasping at the memories of flight. Once again aloft to skirt the depth in diving and fight the limits of physics in lesser and greater sphere. No fear just plain excitement as ride reaches apex and gravity beckons.

To the leash I need restraint. Forgotten boundaries and excess burden of imaginary promise. One such told me of the kindled feathered fire breathing in bellowed belches to quench or stoke the flames of magic, steam and anthem. Process the quickened heart allowed to love unbounded. As flowers in Moon’s light, dancing to dark silhouettes and shadow. We have hoped and treed the squirrels, polecats and racoons found scamping. To let them fun wild at dawn in the market square of plunder. What we recall was not much at all.

Torches held highly to shine the monstrous light of pursuit en company. Heightened bell tones leaving a mark as they seared the inside of ear and mind. For this day would ne’er be forgotten, written in the moorings of spaces, places and daydreams. Fashion and the mages of desk driven madness, practicing alchemy to feed to chemistry of a life gone to seed. Are we to calculate the excess, removing the dross with scant shod blade and waiting for the refire. Immaculate crimson gold sought to sift the wheat and chaff within me. As I stood naked for the toll. Not knowing nor recalling passing this bridge in such a hurry. We fought for miles with barrels full of inches and misspellings.

Syntropic recall all emerging in reflex action to the call of wild nights yet measured. Do not abandon the shores of telescopic humor, booms of laughter reverberating in the hours of morn, spliced in before cold rise and slumber. Into the wood to chase the good in moods set to music yet written. Born of space without time prose without rhyme in a day yet remembered by those forgotten. Eclectic spurred onward to sky’s touched only by the breath of vision and purpose we leapt for greatness and fell soundly into the hands of leather which bore us.