Easy, this run from ridges and harlots to mountains of silence promised. Equipped my soul to reach for stars yet risen. Seeking in the rubble, remnants and spirits of all my pleasures forlorn. Substantial, forbidden, in the fog of freedom’s mindset the character is abandoned.

Behind. Why sorrow in gardens and vestibules remembered only by the lust to call them plenty? What peace have I eluded? Are comfort and pride unique bedfellows? Chasing after the same graven images of days not so soon forgotten. Days of shrines and fields of grain twice broken.

Fertile. The sons and daughters of dry lakes and seeds left dormant in their wakening. Purpose found in intrinsic value discovered. Shaping the world around through aiding in discovery of relationship. Sorrows, fear and aspirations relieved the autonomous struggle revealed making way for freedom to be released.

I miss you even when you’re here. Watching as you leave peace undiscovered or revealed, yearning for release. An open door that is never used for to do so would let go of mooring, past and useful pain. Staring at the answer and wanting it to have a pretty pink bow or sparklers.

The air must be cleared. Things made right. No night left to waken a morn without completion. No final foundings. No remorse. Happenstance be damned in the intentional aspects of a life lived on purpose.

Letting today become yesterday worrying about tomorrow. Part of process shaped and memories interwoven with the things yet laid born. A breath properly released feeling the perfection of promised peace.