Tender the Winds

It’s deeper the silence, this mystic girth, founded in glory. We love the Father, to mourn the Mother, that closer to death. Oh the inhibitions, as a social outcast, to mingle with like minds. I love you through perils, to extinguish souls, ever that nightmare; for this is life, the grandest mishaps, to mode for character; but what the secular, to take for courage, to carry a milestone. I wonder and perish, for many feel it, the course of this lightning; and many die it, the source of thunder, to call it energy; but what for depth, this inner kingdom, to flourish the esoteric; for we explain, through spirit minds, the width of divinity; to fall the dense, and complicate rills, to finally arrive—at unawares. I love you thriving, to enter the worlds, and maintain composure; for sights are grim, the cuts abroad, to filter a nation; so let it fall, the angst and hurts, to enter this

magic; where parents teach, to come for closer—to a child’s soul. I grieved the nights, standing beneath the sun, picking at a tulip; to see it paining, to feel the pangs, to pledge existence. We never should, to see for here, the scars and signs. We fell apart, but this is life, to flee disaster. The lakes are crying, filled with blood, to mourn the mountains; in which is life, to see the wilderness, to overcome sorely. It was ever the lies, to destroy the soul, to cause for vanishing. I never could, to die alone, and remain broken; so fault not—the winded rebirth, to hate a fallin’ soul; but rather rejoice, to see for swans, the measure of endurance. The days are punished, to reckon the wretched, a sort of my own. We must relax, to break the thread, to court for right; else to perish, the empty skies, as opposed to feeling diamonds. It’s love and hurt, to capture the whys, as torn as, Joseph; but never to die, this tender warmth, for a child was born.