Fumbling through the antithesis of a calm and beautiful spring season, I shuffle my school work in my bag and get going to school. Exam 1’s are complete.
Past the forbidden tree lies the harrowing fumigated shadows of risen tendons and muscles past the point of their speed. It was the crevice of music synchronizing with the laden crest. Rampage is the voice of the lady’s black dress; it becomes the creek of blood washed to the recycling of the ocean’s currents. Past the dormant sleep of yesterday comes the fury of unwritten works from the man above. How do you spoil the coming of the risen Lord?
You become the inoculated force hushing through the bushes of evergreens that will produce no shade in the rancor of beaten bodies of marsupials.
Simple contusions make the limbs grow weak tumbling in the point of lactic acidosis. True bickering never laid a man to rest because peace tears the unavoidable mind. Wrong won’t make the right until the right finds quiet in the century’s rendition of collective thought.
“Branch out”, it says in the echo of the lost hills. It mumbles a breath of dewy earth and cleans in the string of strong touch. Birth the banshee for it makes it the queen of trouble. Hold my flexed position of righteousness.
Turn the tune up higher than before. It will make the gestures of me find the north in all that happens to escalate the return of delight.
Farewell if not I had the chance to wish it well. Thank the spirit of the dirty plates to feed the hungry. It won’t saturate my soul for the sauce of his chopsticks break before the bite. If not my queen, then the stockings rip upon the face of the dismantled. All to become the beloved tide of the cold seeping into all that covered the richness of the afternoon sun. The heat loses in conversion to the night light but it will be warm again. Trust Him that it will.