so
much a dream, a fountain, days under guidance—maybe silence. such initiative,
subtleties, mesmerization. needing possession of the beloved, or so it seems,
much is false reconciliation. the independence of the butterfly, the season of
the dragon, things become tender frustration; yearning inside, turning soulfelt
essence, semi-redeemed by neglect. adoring is so hard, maybe made easy, with
solace inside; so romanticized, such paradise and troubles, made in perfect
intention; to have damaged the sanctuary, to have dreamt a message, so charmed
to delude silence. in needs of memories, sounds and echoes, some supporting
forgiveness—of self and mountain, of square and office, of privacy and public;
such treasured harmony, much found in ten measures, if to have adored at its
ether—oaken vows, metal promises, every art has mastery and participation.
