some
place to find soul such a glint so addicted to spirit. burgundy wine or exospheric
gin while we watch our language. dancing in gist bellies in motion or sacrifice
at faces. so post-bloom or struggling with postmodernity while pragmatists are
pluralistic – but anti-most-principles. by renewals of existence or cages in
grapes, pure epistemic love. shun its harvest or embrace its horizon thrown to
wildness – a voice in essence a message as it comes a person in high erudition –
those bleeding mountains as questioning Moses while bushes burned nightly. by
father’s staff by a man’s signet ring where a woman was daughter in law. a
little by complication a fret in luxury so filled so empty. our day to make it
like bass into drums our hills are unholy.
traditions speak to structure where
it’s so sacred we dare not violate ghosts. so tender it cries, so executed it
returns flame, like old valleys are filled with spirits; doors close at minutes
or open with a breeze while many religionize each aspect of existence. if given
a chance they call us weird as for those types of books. a person busies self
with thoughts. another with children. another with excellence. sticks and
strings or self and sullenness or salutations at streams.
it felt holy it unhinged senses by
intricate cadence while we are unaware of humans. by unrelaxed ores or oral
tradition while most was just created. a soul to freedoms a person watches a
soul must reverse its knowingness. our day in mystery our myths in treasures
our mystic understandings. such wisping drums such mincing messages as spirits
in a given instance.
to imagine a skilled person as
confined to spirits, where nothing has been strictly human in many years. by
faces or auras or unrelatable truisms.
we might reface our gaze. at
sweet/sour manifests. a soul is eternal!
