Trials come tumbling softly along the ambrosial path, but still you remain seated in the last refuge, accepting your fate; forever bound. And dreams trip lightly through closed vistas when surreptitious truths trickle below a pale convincing meniscus; the spine of a convex story waiting to be found.
Cast to the wings of a suburban destruction you pace the hours and seconds, contemplating the healthy grave that awaits us all. While flowers freshly dead, cast times bouquet on the starry-eyed mourners who mock with branded feet of chosen clay. Trending with droves of happy slaves you embrace the auto erotic as the new gen of an evolving rainbow invokes a fading white star’s watery grave.
Their lives still apprenticed will remain withering like autumnal Trinquettas’ hung low as an endless spring awaits; forever burning they return for a single day. So breathe deep the sea air as your train of thought awaits you. Tread lightly as other’s backs soon turn to meet you and swarm like ants pledged towards a future past where once Philosophia drank the sweet wine of immortality and now the echo of a moment resounds through different melodies.
Your Train of Thought Awaits You By Martin Hanley Copyright © Martin Hanley 3/26 / 2014