He who measures out the irregular power of syllables stretched across thin paper cant help but fumble with confused answers. The tired tree, the purple opening flower, the gentle breeze declaring quiet showers, the aware clouds moving delicately over the dust reveal the inscrutable keeper. She whose eyes glint like coarse copper trapped in a rude form shifts to temper his artless body with a noble whisper. The trees shake, the simple flowers shiver, the river seems to be an unbeliever. As a light stirs his low faith may waver, he may doubt the conviction of his lover, or the justice of the ultimate lawgiver. But beyond the trials, the toils and fevers, beyond the miserable abiding hangover, he finds behind her eyes a light covered, a person who will decisively deliver the resolution of his shattered prayers.
Posted on: Mon, 31 Mar 2014 17:45:32 +0000