The tempo is in the calm. Much how lightning keeps her thunder in suspense.
My private thoughts are in the wind Between the spoken word and the microphone.
Temples have no god. The desert drowns the cactus and the snake the same.
Caverns tune their Hymns to Mars To harmonize the choir. Strange...Fruit Bats lose their radar and collide With mangoes, more than Fate. And People think of Stunning As a tazer and a can of Mace.
And nothing is more hopeless than attempting.
When you're counting,
lose your place.
When the monkey cracks your Abacus It figures you'll improve mistakes.
Blunder into Wisdom With more open arms than Shiva