Twilight, eyes struggling to focus in the coming low light. Majesty and promise, the hope of the unfulfilled, ironing out the doubtful wrinkles in bodice. What performance protocols and richer science then the voice of a Word, creating, appending, gathering all things to their origin and beyond their ending?

We are esteemed of no rapport, joyous in the troublesome, reluctant few, standing upon guarantees that most would ignore. These days refined in the fires of a rebirth set to clockwork as time heard first clicking moments. What pray you to? Forbear the swallows in migration and willing apostrophes.

Beyond the reach and hope of twinkling starlight. In the fiery eyes of loved and the begotten prince. Flames beyond swell overwhelming horizons with bold, engulfing, consuming torrent, as in floods against the walls and prison’s capture. Counting chrysanthemums adorning tomorrow’s, parlor procession.

Call the roots of space to gather unfolded, showing borders and regions dimensionally concealed. Wrapped around the beacons and rods of time. Infrequent joy, tapping out the smiles and swords of gravity’s fatness. Mass and measure incumbent to the petulant, we find fragility in man’s reason.

Fallen to what lower lands and dungeon? To await some testimony or judgment everlasting. Into the copse of shyly secured evergreen. Escape, found, not wanting by the ark of Covenants sworn upon by something beyond whispers and promises. Frail works and untested foundations, soft breast revealed.

Upon the sword of my own misspent words, claiming reason and excuse, when I failed to believe in destiny and embrace regard for truth. Not the imagined scenes of mindful creation, the things traveling well beyond grasping grip of outstretched palm and finger. I scrape at prism’s, light and dust.