Joy Our Love

Oxygen molecules siphoned unto love, Love bewildering the Oxen. Creation in Caroline. A sign of all creation. The wicked torch is laying downward, Upon the upward Wikkan's resolve. Saving the private stash. To stash the prevailing Savior. We use a sword among the ethos. And ponder ye infinite edges. Burnt are the trees, For they have passed us by. And saw you in darkness.

I am strong; especially at 24 hours length. Minutes past, nor did I blink to dust. Lay gently to open, and my arms will raise heavily, Listen, and the breeze will start walking, Memory is in a poet's fingertip, Slip deeply without restrain, Anger is for pain only, Finally, Pick one up, and it's 3-leaved and roundish Hope may not find it--- nothing behind at the grunt of the shade.

Trial, error number 9 'neath the finer doting line.  Above the Kremlin of spire build,  Undo the marches of --I'm crying out my color blind! Don't need the children, now you have cable, the priests are themselves and willie nile & disabled.  Have to remember just 4 things, Lucid Love Lord Luna

On the Spiritual letterhead, Often, time- we find, aroused by chance- an energy inertia, as a transition- more accelerated in base,  for an awaiting concerto. Most fruited through intention. Not quite ripened, let we that were confiding; better the inventor him/herself giving trained aesthetic. On her stratagem, we then elucidate. It's- the more tumult, desire manifests an entirely new stage as a pairing in to equine-dissonance, ultimately prevailing, and beneath a thwarting of onset. In fullness, we find delight so blissful in competence. Merely a contending component. Also, a fore bearing you nearly just forget about. As we grow in light and love seeks her new surroundings, we embrace her then to the edge, faithfully more eloquent. We relax in thinking, because our trust grows so transcendent-- we can breathe. Not just yet, ethos to our surroundings. There are incomplete transitions- and yours seems a bit whack. Might I add, the psyche is so finely noted as to allow even a...

If thee Parker Brothers were still here today, They might give you the tell tale symptom of greed in a foreplayed idea of game and then add their second sense: this is the real beginning of cat and mouse in America.

As a torrential downpour picks up the transmissions of acid base, and worms regurgitate their own bodies toward the upper crevasses of pinned hopes, We begin to form, not ever so late, our individual plans, Through adult and backward to wrap a new adventure for the generations ahead, Entrusting the dangers only to the laughter and replenished victories of our fluid conversations, Fluidity on its own, distastes such a renouncement of character and being. What a fling, he would say, as he swats away the incomplete ground and uproariously accounts for the Magistrate in wait, Through to the next, as we whip around blundered 180 degrees of corner and acknowledging the slouched cackling of time's which, we disregard her appropriated, 'woah' Perpetuity within her crisp speed warp, welcoming in a deeper light, she bats merely all 4, Within a clash of warned beauty and  a butterfly room for a waiting list, clasping the thin air in precognitive pleasure ahead, we se...