Saturday, April 2, 2011


Be still, insect, do not move the branch. A languid universe is through all the hours of noon. I have told you once long, long ago that a vast star ship will eclipse the sun. Our journey starts here upon this branch. Open your ears to opportunities. Alabaster and shale, Trinidad to Tobago, lonely eves for cold halos. Which would rather have, a hand for art or murder? Lovely insect, you fear the birds. Their sharp beaks are an unsettling mind freak. Gather your steel and heavy artillery, we have strong defense so as not to melt the ice. Buoyancy depicts the thrilling events take positive control over the wind. This means wonderful time to fly. The branch quakes from the chilly breeze, a lady lost her gossamer scarf. For it was not a gale force wind, yet the lady lost her grip. The wind almost flew her over the edge of the forest. An insect like you is too small to save her.

1 comment:

  1. These hands create AND destroy. They will crush the insect but only after showing it the greatest love no one's ever known.