Show up the age of reason with the melodies splurging outside in the rain. Each drop comprises the soul of man. Withering away at the base of the cannon is the entanglement of the heart. My pulse beats fifty times per three seconds.
With every form of isolation comes the fabric society is bent upon. Each road taken is the freedom to withstand all boundaries set before the panel. I strive to enrich the faculties of the mind. Sinking in each cushion I sleep upon are the rallying brigade which expounds on the fire.
Reach for the conundrum of the beast carrying on with his fallacies. Spitting out courage to plead for resilience. For every tear falling comes the measure brought forth by vindictive means the dragon rages against. Time warp expands through space and time. For the magnitude is brought out by forceful means to achieve the end. However, is the end to be forced, or is it compelled to withstand every melody of an aphonic cry?
For what shall dominate on the planet of four to be of the coming in the fallacy. It is the fallacy driven by man’s compulsion to drive out all illusion. Illusion is a beast in and of itself. Each measure taken is the movement of musicality. Dream through tides of broken dreams. Each seed driven into the ground brings about an existing calamity brought on by the bruised ego which fluctuates. For every fluctuating dreams is the measure of truth.
Seep into the treasure of iconic means. Sounding the alarm after the fire bursts from the escapade shadows valiant tomorrows. Sound the alarm with richer beasts holding down the fort. For it is tomorrows children who shall merge with the sunlight, and expound on ever mill which grinds wheat into powder.
I’m drowning in your sandstorm when you unwanted bell rings inside the ears of the fetes. For the lessons learned reach a platitude down in fever. Fever rises when the flames becomes stronger. For every explosion brings for a new song to sing and a new ground to stand upon; thus, building a deeper, more resonate foundation of which to live.
For every moment rain drops caress my flesh, the more precious a musicality of the spoken word becomes. It becomes champion for fetes, and guidance for mankind.
Through the riverbed I shall march, and over the hills I shall fly. When wings unfold upon my head, I shall be uplifted by the spirit of the Lord. For the world shall inherit the spirit of the land. For it is the rent of the tides holding emotion in balance with the wind.
Divided by every flame goes the lion’s rage.
© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2016