the lake bed was uneven a mosaic of large rocks loose and dancing under foot with each shuffled step an interchange of unreliable shallows and inconsistent depths he wasn't particularly keen only willing to venture in up to his chest reluctant to advance if he couldn't plant paws firmly on soil or stone not even the lure of food was enough to tempt him; though he wanted his treat a reward for his bravery the murky water the unknown the unfamiliar the unexpected was just too much
it seems ridiculous to me that it does not matter in spite of what is clearly logically and undeniably the truth
just because a mistake was not challenged or corrected until now; should not mean we are forced to accept the hindrance of this idiocy and what it means for our future
Memories of bruises Velvet fit for kings In the petals of a pansey Oily sheen of raven's wings The inside of a geode Tanzanite in rarest form The color of a baby's face Right after it is born It is the color indgo To red violet of wine Tracing stormy sunsets or Boganvilla vines Plums and grapes remind one Of purple's strange appeal The color of great bravery A wound which finally heals Whatever your mentality This collage of purple hues Is simply a mixture of
How heavy the days are. There's not a fire that can warm me, Not a sun to laugh with me, Everything bare, Everything cold and merciless, And even the beloved, clear Stars look desolately down, Since I learned in my heart that Love can die.