A good game needs rules and planning.
Nothing revels humanity so well as the games that play.
Actually you revel yourself best in how you play.
And so it became that.
A truism;
perhaps we are not that original, we are fascinated with the human past. And It's the human future which intrigues us most.
Seems we cannot understand us.
We cannot abide the thoughts of stagnation.
We seek to change into the heart of what we are, but... change into what?
We are hardly original.
Therefore, what will be your rewards?...
For playing the game...

I know how to recognize a desperate soul
    Wood for our fire
      To keep our family warm
        In winters cold
          What is the sacrifice
            Dear tree
              You captured the sun
                Drinking the rain
                  Roots deeply in soil
                    Mother earth
                     Ashes to dust
                        Cinders to rust
                           Reaching for heaven
                             Only to become
                               The god of fire

Love, most powerful of magic, its cure must be extreme.

Last night...
we danced in the rain
naked, not afraid
on moss
in a field
of flowers  
meeting in dreams
we ran
holding hands
eyes on each other
seeing your ****** length hair
moving wildly upon your breast
a calming effect
laughter
passion
our ghost
like gast
how long will the night last
thunder
what is the speed of lightning
slower than light
air
a breeze of breath
breathtaking beauty
you
us
together
dancing in the rain

The needle
The pen
providing fine points
for disasters end

A Minds Library

There is a library in my mind
Books a million
Words a billion
Thoughts a trillion
Yet there is only one heart
One love
A single whisper
It calls to me
Your name {add it here}
Our life
A singularity of two
And this my love
Will always be you

You could say she was classless like a Marxist utopia.