Fist open, small white stone, the shape a shimmer of the glorious moons of Mars. Reacquired awe in the moments of reverence before tickled fancy and giggled smiles. A while since the stage has emptied still shaking from the harmonies and melodies that spoke to me of dessert and dawn. Please step lightly in the brief moments as we readjust our Tear ducts for the flood and sniffles. There is no description nor explanation for the feeling of having been raptured prematurely while eyes twinkled, and the dead were sullenly remembered.

Still blinking in the flashed brilliance of the time set to rhythm of this beating heart. Shall we sing of dreams and dance still thinking of romance in a bottle. Woken to the cold drips of refreshment paled to the warmth of Sun’s absolute welcome. Influenced by righteous thinking I fall headlong into daydream of the flowers, falls and furlongs before the Gates of heaven. What random dose of fire has swelled my aspirating heart to think and pause before realizing that essential meeting. The sense of nervousness left my mind as peace washed the thoughts of the man evaporating into memories and life.

Traipsing to the daylight. In kinship with the woven paradigm of shifts and curvature of space wrapped in itself spiraling to somewhere yet known. Vortex overhead as the symbols, suggestions and lures pulled me through Rosen upon Einstein upon Feinmann hypothesis become real. Beyond not explanation but sensory absorption. Analysis impossible and speaking in tongues improbable as God alone makes sense of those things I can simply gasp in audition. What promise is left to heart and mind as they have become inadequate to tasking? In the Kaleidescope of flight the dirt leaves the corner of my eye as i see the clear first and foremost I am stricken in solemnity.

Content. Left emptied but joyful at the echo. Nothing known and nothing needed as somehow my wantonness resolved eternal. I am undone and speechless before the mooring of the golden dream and the glass river bent toward an ocean of starlit skies. Scant reason for question as answers seem too plenty for induction and assimilation. What is happening, when or why seemed irrelevant. The skill and the precision filled my receptors dealing passion and pulse in rhythmic discord beyond the scope of humanity. I am nonplussed but simple and pliable by the forming hand of closure and remaking. Into the realms of inexplicable yearning, I have been fed for retooling beyond control of time.