The sea calmed.
The journey wasn't easy out of awareness.
They have heard noises coming from the empty room
behind this endless deconstruction of old days.
They were stone cold when the waterfall fell
into the water.
They gave voice to their awareness.
Pardon me for breathing.
Something tore it apart during that night.
Traces of a campfire. A dingy.
The hat flew away in the wind.
How did the song go, mama?
Is it parallel? And does it vibrate?
The star vibrates light.
Light delighted the heart.
The heart of Queen sings with its own vibrato.
Lyrics were written in the cave.
A short tale passed down through the generations.
The original author is unknown.
And many of our favorite childhood stories
fall into the pond.
Well….. will be the basic component.
A stream flows into the lake.
A dream glows around the pillow.
The tears flow down its cheeks
then into the deep mystery
and says, "I'll be back."
As immaterial as a ghost
in the vaults below the present building.
Opening the black box of immanence
we are nothing without our roots
for it should always be remembered
to find a way to connect to the source.
The source of the rhythm,
iambic pentameter of blank verse.
A ballad of four verses the rhythm of the heart
Where is the riddle? said the boy next door
with a Tam O' Shanter Robert answers.
A phone call is made.
Numerous messages are sent.
He asked for a glass of water.
Or maybe not or may not be.
Only time will tell.
Then you better kill time before time comes for you.
Getting lost in the maize to open the south gate,
oh, no matter what it is
at the land of myth and legend.
Yes, more an accident than design it looks,
provides an interesting perspective.
But before all that…
Nothing.
Yet everything.
