The group would set out into
existence. The life force would be self-satisfactory.
Motion is examined, it was elixir,
many became exclusive winners.
Loses become mainstream problems.
We have a time watching the cattle thrive.
It becomes wits, cleverness, inner
debate, error, and creative arts.
I’ll confess it—it seems to have
structure, deliberate wings, one is with desire to search internally. The daffodils
never say much.
A man said to himself, “I am
insignificant.” He noticed souls taking an interest in his art. He had to
change his initial assessment. Time would determine the genuine and the
artifice.
A tug is a tug. That said, is a
tautology. It is necessarily true.
Parents have a time letting go, and
letting live. The group might not want to let go, and let live. Perception is
elusive. It depends upon the person. Rarely do we confess—self-deception; the
grass is green, most rely on their skills, I try to tell myself—most things are
not as I see them. Some may relate.
It never goes away. Every
deed/action—will be called before the tribunal.
I have a feeling—many know they are
an issue for some strange company. We borderline the dimension—those lacewings
are watching, it’s not what it will become.
I remembered your age bracket. You
might be familiar. You might have seen it—to notice it—to agree with utilizing
it.
I haven’t a clue. I’m not
clairvoyant.
I try to be with the universe, the
alignments, the vibrations.
I do not lay claim to owning
others. I know some might agree with that.
Many are finding life. Many more
are adjusting to life. Life is filled with family, friends, arts, and colleagues,
and watchers.
I have a feeling, just a hunch
that, nothing is private.
Bats have left us looking for
vampires.
