What doth lie behind
those otherworldly portals
in link with the mind,
Thought;
Existence rests upon something intangible,
Memory is our cradle
from which we muse upon this design.
Do excuse my wandering mind,
She's still got the liveliness I left behind.

I would implore
the resplendent words
that a daughter of Atlas
might bring forth; a veracious
representation of the world,
To wit, her.

Don't stop writing,
It keeps the mind strong.