In ten paces
Before the flash warning
You will meet the man you are to marry.
It will all make sense and everything will be right in the world.
This will be before everything changes.
Fused with braggadocio.
It was often hard to read between the lines. Navigate the windward passage of truth and beauty and claims and falsehoods.
The letters: each of them jagged, disconnected.
Followed by numbers: not the rounded patience of our past.
Tempted to follow advice?
What if, hidden amongst these scribbles?
What if, locked away in the middle of words?
A code of sorts were found? All of the searching over?
See, my truth.
Learn to embrace the cold stuff.
Sometimes the ground, already tired of it, screams in low pitched defeat. This is understandable. Maybe sympathetic.
While known for its honesty, this is one time where remembering your true master is more than helpful.
Chill enters your bones and lingers until rest arrives. The two only meet, ships in a foggy night.
Loyalty, in all its shades of varying off-whites, never truly goes out of style.
Your master will not forget this.
On a tether between two immovable objects.
Wind strikes the hanging object. Buffets and tosses it.
Helpless in the hands of God.
To take the briefest of moments. To stand in reverence.
Watch as the object bends and sways.
All of this, all of it. No exaggeration. In the wind.
Pay close attention.
time matures and weighs on itself. Then the weight collapses and the vacuum commences.
it has gone and will not come back. Watch as light dies away.
It’s time to face facts.
stick’s rigomortis pried away before the rain.
The air above me laboratory to keep above the imaginary height chart. Its chin is fully in the air and its eyes are fixed on limitless dark blue that pokes around and fades into fog.
We observe everything in its haze casing.
It radiates through us and arranges molecules in unfamiliar patterns.
The rain, when it arrives, and leaves too soon, will give us relief.