Hope and fear lie sizzling in the hand of a kind dry light sun drenched to the fire of silken sand, the naked voices of ones be heard on the bereaved winch of wind as the niche neglect pitch nuts and bolts to the ****** of grace, filled to the pinch and quench on a human oasis, the stiff of heat slaps the face of the souls cry to the deep sweep of dust and swine smell a sway on the principle of a turning tide, oer the eye of the opal queens velvet cress of sleep sipping her lips to the sweet serene atmospheric, tumbling toward xtasy on the tender rich faint silent hum arrested to the ***** of elemental bliss