Write what you shall wind rider for the apprehensive fear is ruptured. Torn from the fabric of context and shadow to reside in the brush heap of forgotten season. Leave hope where seeds may plant finding fashion and sustenance in memorable breezes. Focused on points for a new place, sounds and practice pure sitting by the river of golden road and formidable fruits, where rain falls in due season, harmony ripe for picking and service.

No more shattered outlook or peep of darkened heart tying itself to kindred despair. Aware of the things that bring men to notability only the first of which is essential, blood. Wrapped adjectives describing a place we know but have never been. A world of a mindful eye and heart of faithful financing. To blend in a place where the light may prosper only to be asked for a song, dance or portrait. What then is hopeful when all have arrived.

Puncture of time and mechanisms for coping or converse relationship. What goes up may remain aloft to bring apprehensive acknowledgement to King and Castle. Far away places that were always next door and promises kept in the meeting of minds and dependence, not of rhetoric or popular eloquence but the foundation of rocks beneath one’s feet. Oh, to sit with King and Prince to here answers once beyond reason, wisdom or discovery.

Gone asunder. No plunder, grand romance or conquer ventured. To find the gold of Spirit’s call. Once vended by priests of aspiration, now oft spoken without contrition, hope and patience. The rising tide of dreams best left forgotten as hope shows its glorious face to the waiting crowd. All seeking miracles when the truth is yet upon them. Found in depths so shallow they may only be scratched in the desperate longings of man’s pursuit.