01 June 2014


To faces, supposedly, all make the sunrise, without import itself fetching, or itself foul, its flight, be it jocund, plenty or petite, which verily you were. Sunrise, which if was a disclosure annuls all the pasts. Surrender to the moment, facades, tired eyes, fragile, deep reflections, call to arms thoughts of war, quintessence, secure and fearless. Sunrises, all begin life, domain of realms, sees without sight, renown, limitless, lifeless, unto itself more as does the light conquer, verily, veritable, upon life it caterwauls, sensibly, neither despondent, nor despairing or malign, resolutely, to fear only fear itself, wherewithal arising, if only to exist, returns as another vision.