My thoughts imagine a pearl of a world, feather bliss and warm hands in mine.
Walking as soldiers of our fortune,
together, we share all, the water well drinks for you and I.
Sun licks tremendous portions of our days, and her warmth lathers as a shiver, a promise, of what will be.
Never as a steal, as is now, a fake, a flame, an end planned before beginning.
No show of fluff, illusory and a bake of magic.
We will push the sled of new beginnings and leave roads of fears in our wake.
Necks of liars will be closed from the mouth down,
and they will be embarrassed to show their faces.
Burrs of electric will tingle on the tips of our tongues, and voices will pique in our souls, these will be the new foundations for communiqué
and funding will be from feather banks, no longer on the lend.
Traps of theirs have been let go,
no longer on the lien.
I mend my thoughts as others do and purpose none to theirs, but take a resonance and treasure it for mine is there by theirs.
Shrines set by them have been appertained to theft,
but now those houses will house safes on empty,
and the bankers will sleep naked as shorn sheep in a barn.
We the talisman.
gjh10
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