Two of salt
Have a heaven, have a done
Wrent with the times, a unison fault?
A picture of silence, when you have a question?

What is salt to a weary heaven?
Claim the door, or make a fruit a sovereign future
We have the sulking, the tradition of when art is the question
Can a hardier nuance, become the notion to endure?

A picture of paradise?
Promises and privilege, to greet your decisions
Of waiting and fating the stare, opus hopes is wise
So to a form in choices void, is a wakeful two, intimation?

Of a welling conscience, and the first of many kinds
Of wishes for, and taken with impressions visit
Medians or tedium, a rule of voice is to become our mind
A sake, with tomorrow on its nerves, and the rest of the future for wit

Creating the art of hours, a wishing order to worth
Is a raging held in honor or contempt?
Longing for a masters stroke, can a sharing candor, leave us with certain...
Ours of heed, and curiosity, to be a show of what life lent?

The mastery of a premonition
To work the magic of the age, a host's place and or confirmation
Come by the senses of another, to speak the truth of intuition
That has become the pout of romantic powers, a vision of a generation?