Synchronicities coalescing like an orchestral crescendo bubbling up all at once no longer guessing no shorter waiting the pot is boiling moreover I might be synch i n g ... a pod of killer whales crash-splashing quite a commotion up, out, and back down into the ocean born into the storm like a frightful forte a front brake endo the
feathered fickle angel screams pianissimo on tiptoes, reaching out toward tomorrows
continuously contagious incapacitation tells me it straight like an arrow through time like a taught fishing hook line and sinker —
trying to figure out your reason your rhyme parsley, sage, rosemary and crime please, let me in on your pickled paradigm
a stormy sea, all your own, decides for you, where you're thrown.
'Seems that the wrath of the Gods Got a punch on the nose and it started to flow; I think I might be sinking. Throw me a line if I reach it in time I'll meet you up there where the path Runs straight and high.' (Going to California - Led Zeppelin)