Just kidding, not into division. (timesweeper)
My Rhymes smile with prejudicion cause I'm frequently adoring a story that was meant for poor oratory Fridays. Select the mate of your worst violin, strung and rung pains, tides that share aims.
Peel back the written envelopes of a mail suggested and offered to the salient spaces of first men on the bridge. Newcomers all hearkened to up-let the steam in event of a seeker.
Don't do a little piece of writing. Don't do a small breath of typing. I'm squaring up a fools cloak with letters that feel like dying, (sigh)..
I'm lying, they-are-a sleepy Arcturian's artistic filing.
Drawn out, yawned in, super perceptible precepts of fallen identities. Christ's idolons on the pond of a simple Wednesday..(bellow)
Congregating Unity with The-Taurus of my beloved memories in witnessed 'n kissed weddings of a scholar sitting in the thymus of a souls uniquely paced sage.(Time)
Forget about the homies making me soggy, flashing glares of shadows stare at the bare minimum semicolon semi-auto corrected suggestions fouling the circumstances by willingly peeking and dismounting a worried dagger.
Green rule for the sage , resurrecting : reassuring cues... of the upper... middle fumes...ballooning the chest of a few this divine breast is be you. reassuring reasserting resurging might. Time well spoke.
Passage of Time.
Listen to your heart's virtue, let the rhymer and the seeker enloven eleven. The doorway to the chest of a soul's pure fire. Forever!
Green when you yellow your souls dusty dove. Doer's and clovers laid out like a flood.
Let the meek soldier see a soldier. Let the meek hunter see a daunting thunder. Let the seeker feel a little love bite, no shame it's a dust mite, a precious jeweled thunder when he's up right.
Seeping into the floral dynamics of the Anima, questing questions arise: "Who is governed by a whole hearing, all feeling flower?. I must be off my hinges, dark umbrella masking a holding hymn for the Greek Fin that spindles of discipline I am Yin Sim, Simulating hymns from the closeted pact of an old brittled, speakless... immortal sin! Never again, will I! contend! with a soul who knows how to shame, outside with the pin! (needle) ((Eminem, I am Smarties.)).
No worries, all plenty, I shook my head when I met me. Non Jin dreamer. Non Yin eater. Non dairy diaries no milk only honey, I'm sugary like nestle, I'm nestling with empathy resting on the balcony yolking the Tolkien talks with bruxby. I'm go feed, on the go, give em that nutrient rich sap de-tapped from the soul. My yin isn't for sleeping, smoking nor vamping it's harder for me to unwrap when noisy, so I pay some homage to the talky walky critters by living quiet and balanced, weighed in myself as your pause.
Empathy: Blue and Yellow.
And the spaces in between are Dan Winter's bigger Picture.