Words wind illuminated.
Captured by the stars in the sun.
Loving life is imperfectly placed in each bright, burning and beautiful corner.
The spirits, equal in there elegance, are unaware of the intensity.
The fighting feeling is present and growing in power.
Able yet unaware; illustrated incapable.
Loss. Losing. Leaving.
Swept up with the sand and the shadows; carried from one creature to another.
The banshees beat is betrayed.
Fluid motion and fluid feelings become the center of all that is nice.
All that is neat.
All that is.
Just being, believing and breathing.
A new alignment for the images in our minds.
Melting and molding into something fresh; a seed that blossoms and disperses itself.
A seed that spreads and explores each corner, crack and crevice.

Severe circumstances encircle the mind.
The mouth.
The heart.
The hands.

The path, soft and serene, paves the way, centered in a fragrant feeling.
The leaves gracefully take flight as their contracted wings shift and shape into sharp, shooting torment.
Everything dies.
Everything lies.
Dwelling on the distant memory that was the moment.
The capture.
The retreat.
Aiming with the innocence of all you’ve ever known.
Flirtatiously finding that the one, the all and the nothing have become the same.
The simple.
The sound that dances and the feelings that fades.
The jumping, bubbly noises from within the soul.
The everything and the nothing.
They reach for each thought, they capture each comfort.
Free to evolve.
Free to form the magic and the night,
the beginning and the end.