Joy Our Love

I will give you, your surviving spirit, and I will renew you. Your beautiful pasture and favorite calf to graze, as you lay in my hills. I will color your mind in sweet oxygen and bathe you in the sun's lightest helium. As you appear in front of me. I see your home whose sun has been replaced. I saw you running when there were no trees to hide. No leaf to clothe your biggest round. As I loved you, you began to shrink. You grew again with your rhythm we found together when I called you.  Now you love me, so we can bare together. I will look out when you walk away and give peace to your resting mind. You are home now. Gaining consciousness... You are in the leaves, for they are golden. Their vane is true and without breakage, because of you. Forever lasting, your print is the truest size. The trees were meant for you. 'Let the doves now rest on my shoulders. I will walk with my height through the wild. Just above the astern, where they will never forget East. ...

The way we lead is also an immense expression of how we can love and give. In our own withering, whether we have slowed down in grace and mediation, we fill then our hearts with more gratitude and willingness. We never lose energy, even in our dying. What an explosion of renewal. A decline of the body and frame... But an act of life and age. An epoch we follow and lead with every birth and end. We must work to flow in with the energies of others. We praise each other by focusing first on our own positivity. We can arrange our needs within this work. Striving to improve and provoke our work to a better feeling and emotion, we gain strength in our abilities. 

Under the varnish, beneath the willow's arms A beautiful skin, in bark. Spring blue, in infared. Blowing and hollowing rays of light. Beautifully laid, by a creator of your. Tomorrow turns the lip of a white fringe and a lavender twist. Along the rows of chloro--- filling the freshly oxygenated air. More to fill, space to provide man a necessity.... Nestling. In the abundance of our colorful world.  A turn of the season and we welcome the proven sunsets. Galactic opal affluence, from Earth to all. One. Be. Breath. Life & Light.

You're completely right when you're wrong too, that's why I marry a frog and turn up the genesis that we all get to find Justice in. I and E is a God, says Jon Blackmon. I now can know a priest and a Baha'i layman.  Maybe the Baha'i needs to reach a teachable book too. I'm so confused Abraham, did I help to murder Jesus and now I want to sue someone.  For helping me to think about my thoughts and bother with them.  Because I am both a woman and a mistress, a whore and a twink bitch. Just because I am a commodity doesn't mean we need to do anything at all.  In life every and any way we enter a turn.  Centrifugally, I have nothing and am only a metaphor for nothing. Oh well taking in the craziest and most nonsensical shit is what I do as an avid learner. Pestilence is like the stock market, who cares about money. We all love China, especially India now-- then we careen in to an orbit above some cloud of new found earth and existence equally as equal. I...

http://www.blouinartinfo.com/news/story/990891/qing-dynasty-influence-in-shang-xias-2014-collection Very Nice.

Knowing can do no wrong when you thumb the finger in a giant U-shape. The colours and languid occasions of the permisuous rosebud tethered herself to the epiphany of surmountable preponderant. Can George Washington trace the confetti monkies. Taking a weave at the talent tail-- Jump in the wind and kiss the iceberg where you are. Perhaps the tecton leaves with float in to your mouth. Spiteful and I'll give you a laddle and a ladder in the upper peninsula, check on t'he float horns when she tallied the Maiden. Wonder in Sleep dear love, for your choir's let is cherished.

(This is not my writing) As I would casually in to the field of golden ember wheat and glazed soy, I notice a small note in the back of my pocket.  Only to presume I had a pleasant reminder from a friend, the filed piece reads "Never to Omit," and without looking the visuals of the evening ran back to me like an opulent wild fire hanging in the oxygen of it's own warmth. I wondered if this was in reference to the discussion Abigail and I had in regards to information and data, or the consensual occasion of acquisition among two parties. We had always grown so fond of learning together, Abigail was always an attentive listener and her knack for mnemonically derived sound kept her an inch ahead of the major populations.  I hoped she could write me another note, I would miss her as she excitably strolled on to the plane departing for Iceland that evening. There are so many distances to learn when abroad, the eyes have so much fun dancing from one landscape and scenery to...