A plotting mind linking line by jotted line in hopes to find some form of vitriol to sooth the untempered soul before the coal has been toiled and burned out.

No matter the highest heights or crashing lowest of lows.
This I know not if my hand-glide will sail smoothly

or will Tempest roar too soon before?
I come crash-landing to the floor.

!!Beam me up God-dy!!
~in blaze of blue-bellied rays~

or something akin to Eternal Light...
or  
s o m e
thing
a c h i n g
too
*E t e r n a l-l y