A short time ago. Lying back I looked to the skies. And simply was. These moments were short and sweetly contemplated. As I held your hand and dreamed of better things. We prayed about love and reason, walking hand upon hand contagious in the days before us.

No separation, facing eternity with promise. Knowing that these days we have are so very important. If not for me. Then for the those who have still forgotten. Painting signs with smiles, flowers and the dogs that never leave us. We often fell to hope a stable embrace.

There is no us without consent or compromise. Someone must make the needs of the needy more important than the hoarding. In consequence, the power of the pitiful rises up to become useful to the many. Into intention we walked not suddenly but in logical planning.

Not simply dreams or words that build tomorrow. The truncheon and the chain are cement of expectation. No farms planted without early rise and infrequent slumber for planning only for today neglects winter’s arrival. We are compelled in sensibility to design things that last.

If not forever than way past the emergence of new life and mouth’s so empty. Fathom’s measured to avoid the obstacles and fear. No calculus or worry in sufficient trajectory and power. We find that me becomes we and then us as we share a projection for afternoon.