The particles perpetually persist where they are rejected or attracted, but from any atmosphere that is alien to pure physics, which is from his studies where everything exists and nobody knows what it is? Where Heles anticipated the macroscopic world. Vernarth was on his way to the sources written for the reversal of his military years, already in their wielded silhouettes from so much shaking them in his shadow that he was fading away. Granicus and Iso with Alexander the Great were one of them ..., this is how he exalts himself by having the ascending mission of saving the lineage of Mythological beings and not, under the expedition of his Anabasis or "Expedition for the rescue of Greek Mythological Beings who they are vilified for their own ethnography ”; it is the case of Heles. The brushstrokes were cloistered in the last events where the strong muscle follows, and the brain that escaped from a crypt of Tuthmosis, that perhaps would go for a new archaeologist to advance in the boots that Vernarth used in the Site of Arbela, being in Gaugamela reality, such as in Betania María de Betania in Magdala; being Mary Magdalene in Bethany. Here are the raids that were being carried out with the crews of Alexander the Great freeing themselves from their Larnax, to presuppose the actions that were being debated in the questions as he was always a military man who was on guard in front of his own larnax, but with the excursions to free himself of the same to witness the rebirth of Heles, daughter of Nepheles in the clouds, who consulted herself by the oracles that were already dimensioned in the game of beneficial actions, by double action of the body and mind of the Anabasis that Vernarth contracted by the possession of Alexander the Great in his own body. Much light was thrown when it was pointed out that the oracles would dress them in the greatest of all contests, where the same oracles mark the conspiracies of mythological beings by wanting to take conspiracies to take the world of Vernarth with the Submitology, which allowed life to beings that would no longer have any respite in any episode of interest, nor in a literary empire that ascribes the reality of a set that was mostly on the high seas, as far as the chariots of the navy of Thepis, or of Etréstles that took them to the memory that would speak much more than a faithfully conformed hybrid story, where every species born of a Titan, God or Demi-God would have the solicitous tragediography initialed by the ****** hands of Vernarth, by retaining the garrulous that were greater than the Aegean over the Ionian , where the brute and salty waves would fall abridged on the grievances of a mythological being that is torn by having to know that it can revive, and I saw vir eternally incarnated for centuries and centuries in the dating of those who were willing to revive Prometheus, Heles, Persephone, Orpheus, Stratonice and so many others in the ink that would become blood that writes the life of the beings that revive in the source of the Anabasis of Vernarth. But rather than the harsh air carry the marble dust of Heles over the high masses of warm air to the Valleys of the Kings where Tuthmosis IV, will bury the rest of the ashes that have not revealed their lineage as a sub mythological being, in the average of books and millennia that rested on the magnesium threads formed in the extreme wings of the Helenikká Necropolis, rather in the shady fifth, from where you will breathe the first zephyr cycle from Syracuse to the Kimonos itself, in the rested bay by Dekas.

Vernarth's Anabasis has as a corollary going back with all his entourage from Hellespont, to Patmos. The rhetorical offices would be golden bread and golden wine that tasted like heaven with incense, with orders that Darius or part of his immortal army could revive him to take the sourly baked Patmos. Alexander the Great appears before Vernarth warning him of this ultimatum, and that the armies should be enlisted before this decisive crusade, as compensation for the siege of Gaugamela, with the difference that a large part of the Greek mercenary soldiers would go to confirm the part from the flank or Keras of Vernarth. The banner on this occasion would carry Heles revived with his marble eyes on the two hydric colonnades, to represent the orders of Saint John the Apostle, before a supposed Hellenic rumor became an unexpected assault on the parapsychology of Diodorus of Sicily. , when he woke up in Sicily, as if he had been here witnessing to write the macro uprising of Heles, to revive Prometheus as well, and that they were already becoming illustrious heirs of an island that had great heirs in its lands, under the conduit of the Speleothemes, in which Wonthelimar had brought them.

-Xenophon leads me on… in another place… here
Aft amorning entranct with possibilities. Yo crero.
Someday you, is reading thisday me, when
from Under the Volcano
to the Lighthouse, bemused, as muses use us. Little things, elves. Ves-try best try, purple robe,

- the nobels dismounted
By and by, we learn the rhythm, sing song, none
Said wrong -goin’ up country… doin’s as we do…
goin up country, bring some ***** home
Woe baby war war war, holy war, face o’ god,
- Click, new channel, and the other one goes on… abysmally pro fundity, pay eh…
No mortal may gaze into, as the window of his own soul,  may gaze eyes ablaze, having
Witnessed the fact that the shining thing, tasting
The wait and see tree, {we asked why we could not eat the olives from the tree, but remembert green persimmons. So we let patience work}
We name first fruits, from the end of time, wait
Wait wait wait wait wait
Fifty years. Just wait. Suffer it to be so, never go
-away hungery, or mad, as the author, seeks cause, aitia, reason come to cause,
meet me at the t. aitia, I am, as amusement, a thoth thought that any Solomonic emulation can run. Pocket Pal, or a B natural Blues Harp, or
Some times I sing. Or whistle, just to let me know,
We remain just this sane, by a thread…
Of Anabasis, goin’ up country
Bound, bound bound by my brothers,
Marching
As to war, God gives us greed, t’ meet our need
Jones to the bones, pure-dee vine curiosity
how were such armies formed, gathered up,
from where, whence came the brazen helms
the hoplites sport on inspection and demo charge,
with a roar like highschool foot ball kick-off,
same surge of mob adrenal reasoning, tuned in,
sheee it, we, she-us, wh-then, the signal dropped out. Zero beat.
Right on. Tune tested, best of 300, in the top 3.
- look there were multiple versions
- the story of mankind, as we branched,
by means of confoundment… flattening,
Tin into brass, folding, and flattening, pounding
On an oak stump, oh,
Long time ago, this stump, see we cut it down,
slow, slow, old man fades, see,
Time as thought is time as time, to me, thinking this is all I bloomed to become.
About 1957, I learned that an old Persian olive
cultivar on Crete, or anywhere around there,
takes fifty years to reach maturity, full fruct-
if-ication…

So me, the guy after the secondplace hero,
Xenophon, you know, the rich geek,
Teddy Roosevelt, right, right right, just
like his character,
Legendary… like mine. My best me, I did boast,
But freedmen, as a class. Raise a brow, one notch,
Per sold out, wait, wait, wait till we see, the whites of their eyes, the others, sub-human, by god… hold your fire… wait
Or regret you have but one life to give, for your country. Do and die, be an Israelite indeed, guiless.--- unbeguiled, no guilt for knowing…
And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not… in deed…

High-brow mode. Click. Read the underlay,
life’s books, exist as onion-skinned palimpsests,
- Secret writing , not hid, just here, under
- Stood stones, such as we all learn, sing
- Song,  look at us, we’re marching, sing along… to Pretoria, pre- torie, eh, we
Dropped out. And ate dust. Dots in the distance,
Thunder in some dreams, tuned to take a non-anxious thought from a child so sure,
I’ve got a mansion,
just over the hilltop, in that bright land of after all.
We die. And lo’, we live, as words,
A word, to the wise, is enough… true rest compresses trust abused as a beggars tin-cup, to catch the rich man’s ball…
yes, I owned a silver cup… not tin, silver.
I was as proud of that cup as what’shisname,
The Left-handed Son of One-eyed Jack.
He had a buffalo hide. A whole, shaggy hair,
old, too old for fleas, buffalo hide,
he held in pride, the ownership
of special things kind of pride, not the gay abandon chains and don a Phryigian cap and
wrap the headsman’s axe in our threshing staves.
How high the brow, I raise, singlely, no, I lack that gene, yet, my lip doth sneer, left side only,
Thus, we flip the lense, then flip the pixels, yes,
Film effects, chaos in beauteous sfumato or chiaroscuro, something computers were taught,
finally, by sight. True, half-tone tech, made Chiaroscuro Computer Art, vision via metrics based on artist’s eyes, won me first prize,
An the 1986 Mohave County Fair, where we
Displayed our wares, and our networked Macs.
SE- latest, dual 3,5” floppies…
$3200, out the door. I never sold a one,
but to me. Wholesale, minus my commission, as the flooring was running out, interest
about to come for the accounting and the vig,
Keep hope alive, pay us all you can, we say when,
Enough’s enough, left right left, mental exercise,
Stretch the concepts… essentials first, must know
Knowns, we knowns, we all know, stories with morals, since the cradle,
So it seems, some think wombed Bach is better than acid rock,
time will tell, so they say. Vonnegut mutters,
So it goes.
Canned Heat, on youtube, at my whim, yeah,
Play it from the second verse, we all can think,
We were singing that, when Kurt Russell was a computer wearing tennis shoes, in a strange
Disney characters from the real Mickey Mouse club, with Lonnie, and Cubbie, and Annette –
Beach Blanket Bingo—war story
Flip for it, the novel thread is chance, fishing
For mental means to ends in minds, aimed at peace, post happiness achieved, on the Lincoln plan promoted with Famous Amos Chocolate Chips of the old block,
Yes, as you may imagine, carbon-steel, is new
To mankind, almost all the tools we use, are new.
Since 1969, have we learned any thing that might ease a child’s mind… after My Lai, or the like,
As soldier ants, enforce the others must die, we are protectors of the flag and the concept enclosed in the word republic, a we form, regimented,
Tools,
Trades and crafts,
Guardians of liberty,
Priests and experts in knowing signs
Left on stones for all to see, see, see and
So-bemused become, awe sets in, couch lock
Right, too right, mate, good enough, we got mind
Sunk… lowest point in south America is in Argentina. And what do you know, so is the highest. Learn it once,
Know it for ever, after any ever in progress.

Portentous enunciation, syllable
To blessed syllable affined, and sound
Bubbling felicity in cantilene,
Prolific and tormenting tenderness
Of music, as it comes to unison,
Forgather and bell boldly Crispin's last
Deduction. Thrum, with a proud douceur
His grand pronunciamento and devise.

The chits came for his jigging, bluet-eyed,
Hands without touch yet touching poignantly,
Leaving no room upon his cloudy knee,
Prophetic joint, for its diviner young.
The return to social nature, once begun,
Anabasis or slump, ascent or chute,
Involved him in midwifery so dense
His cabin counted as phylactery,
Then place of vexing palankeens, then haunt
Of children nibbling at the sugared void,
Infants yet eminently old, then dome
And halidom for the unbraided femes,
Green crammers of the green fruits of the world,
Bidders and biders for its ecstasies,
True daughters both of Crispin and his clay.
All this with many mulctings of the man,
Effective colonizer sharply stopped
In the door-yard by his own capacious bloom.
But that this bloom grown riper, showing nibs
Of its eventual roundness, puerile tints
Of spiced and weathery rouges, should complex
The stopper to indulgent fatalist
Was unforeseen. First Crispin smiled upon
His goldenest demoiselle, inhabitant,
She seemed, of a country of the capuchins,
So delicately blushed, so humbly eyed,
Attentive to a coronal of things
Secret and singular. Second, upon
A second similar counterpart, a maid
Most sisterly to the first, not yet awake
Excepting to the motherly footstep, but
Marvelling sometimes at the shaken sleep.
Then third, a thing still flaxen in the light,
A creeper under jaunty leaves. And fourth,
Mere blusteriness that gewgaws jollified,
All din and gobble, blasphemously pink.
A few years more and the vermeil capuchin
Gave to the cabin, lordlier than it was,
The dulcet omen fit for such a house.
The second sister dallying was shy
To fetch the one full-pinioned one himself
Out of her botches, hot embosomer.
The third one gaping at the orioles
Lettered herself demurely as became
A pearly poetess, peaked for rhapsody.
The fourth, pent now, a digit curious.
Four daughters in a world too intricate
In the beginning, four blithe instruments
Of differing struts, four voices several
In couch, four more personae, intimate
As buffo, yet divers, four mirrors blue
That should be silver, four accustomed seeds
Hinting incredible hues, four self-same lights
That spread chromatics in hilarious dark,
Four questioners and four sure answerers.

Crispin concocted doctrine from the rout.
The world, a turnip once so readily plucked,
Sacked up and carried overseas, daubed out
Of its ancient purple, pruned to the fertile main,
And sown again by the stiffest realist,
Came reproduced in purple, family font,
The same insoluble lump. The fatalist
Stepped in and dropped the chuckling down his craw,
Without grace or grumble. Score this anecdote
Invented for its pith, not doctrinal
In form though in design, as Crispin willed,
Disguised pronunciamento, summary,
Autumn's compendium, strident in itself
But muted, mused, and perfectly revolved
In those portentous accents, syllables,
And sounds of music coming to accord
Upon his law, like their inherent sphere,
Seraphic proclamations of the pure
Delivered with a deluging onwardness.
Or if the music sticks, if the anecdote
Is false, if Crispin is a profitless
Philosopher, beginning with green brag,
Concluding fadedly, if as a man
Prone to distemper he abates in taste,
Fickle and fumbling, variable, obscure,
Glozing his life with after-shining flicks,
Illuminating, from a fancy gorged
By apparition, plain and common things,
Sequestering the fluster from the year,
Making gulped potions from obstreperous drops,
And so distorting, proving what he proves
Is nothing, what can all this matter since
The relation comes, benignly, to its end?

So may the relation of each man be clipped.

Analog, anabasis… trip, short, burn the bug to carbon dust…

Seeking in my treasury of books, pared down to ones with personal attachments,
- I sought a Welsh-English pocket dictionary, gifted me
- by a taller and older, by experience, Overmeyer… Bob,
- but he was one of a few in the corp, band of brothers,
- who sang along with me, when he heard me humm,
- he knew the words, worth-ship fixing words, yes,
- we shall gather at the river that flows by the throne of truth. Mmmmhmm, so we shall see, so we shall see,
Oldman river, you know,
you wait, and wait, fishin' wishin' cogitations got from *** go,
known good, known evil, and evil comes for effect, not cause,
clean up, aisle five
hell, in a target store. And a Walmart, #26.
-- I recognized the anti particle, passing through either or,
becoming here, from there, your thinking my thinking,

wall of text, in your current context, this wall has hat

hooks to insights marked pertinent someday, in the wide ocean
at the end of any river mind me and error master,
as awareness, meandering as all fluids do.
Aligning in honed most saline crystaline form, as
current opinions shapened from dust and ash originally,
then spit the idea out as a word,
imagine
matter… mater, really, bottom first bit, was realized after
paterialization falled to manifest self reproduction…
patterned thought, fabrication, plane geometry… which we
as a team, a man and his tools, gunslinger, plus accoutrements.

Yep. Adam, did not work alone. The egg was first. He named eggs.
And chickens, full of eggs, no, hope, and chaos, nada mas…
- morals from old stories, we had lost all hold on those…
Stepmothers after The Hundred Years war, like as not was
first slave, with only obey believed enforce,
as far as
holy vows spoke allowed, but in a whisper…
hear us,
old folk, we scatterbrained old rockers by the fireplace
listen, this is living, right.
Pursue haps as haps occur, in thinking one thing or this other,

Our kind, fixed position ears perpindicularly augmenting per-
iferal vision, if, just, if. Immeasuarable meanings, justice, yes,

we settled at that point. All the Promises - in any living faith,
even dying proves life is a chance, we all go through it, and some leave marks, while others leave a heart felt
oxitocin, not cotin, red on yellow, **** a fellow, -tocin. Oxitocin,

Rush!- Kettle DRUM after a cello up run, or an old familiar rif,
Goin' up country, ' bought a map for a dime,
from a time lain aside in book, as I was seeking that Welsh word for these experience in side, feeling inside, but being mere, yes, not a limiting adjectival modification, on a word, intended to soothe,

NOT ******, soothe, as said of gentle rolling seas, calm as constant as Jupiter's ever near there, right there, red spot, there,
that is an anomoly, yet, there are those who claim clarity, that

Red spot, Ted-talk phaze, ease in, get a buzz, mmmm, slow, slow

slow
whoa, so slow, what difference can plain-people, just us,
can we ever just know, this is the way, no obstacles,
and we leave trails, and trails widen, and widen, and widen,

wide as the milky way as seen from North Korea.
What a blessing, right?
--- God made these chickens we are eating,

no, child we selected these big red hens, people, like us, we can
know how earthly goods grow and we can help, as gard'ners,
retired guardians and priests can, make soil richer,
by leaven from the native soil,
fresh after fire, sparks the bloom

Patience, paid close attention, over time,
pay is as interest always is, compounding…
complex knots
slipping infinite loops generation systems
spinning straw to gold, bricks to build a tower…

to grow mustard into brocolli and cauliflower, prosper-o

we can engineer squash blossuming
be.. not spelch-pstpst-offt-listen,
- laughing
in my home are children, aged 6 to 13, across a seven year gap…
in my home with complete 5G internal Wifi, with cable
- copper, ah
- the humm, copper wire interference, acceptible as soft
- sub-spectra sfumati self-edged,- cut from whole cloth
abrupt.
Con, is with, fuse, is
blown… but, click, we are past that, where I live, on a pension.
I survived an oath in a war. And in America, the we, as
represented in Congress after Korea, and UCMJ, reach, reach,
- remember the ears that read, need to know
right, MP talk, uniform, all the exact same alignment and weave… for forsake, forsooth, forgotten gains, -- un-fore-gotten
upright walking, living concept, Phoebe Zeitgeist
- she made a word nest in my mind, on March 16, 1968.
- On a Douglas Flying Tiger insertion mission,
Flying to a foreign land more foreign than any thus far, redux.

Surreal stepped up to real, realms of preception, Metaverse/
uniform code under it all, we wished for this, can we, can we,

please, walk back in and watch the shadows morph to home sized I-max with true-fi dolby optimized to your very own, humanity
verified self--
- eyes up, look where we were when ever, then be come you now known as dear reader, responsibility free, cookie or no?
Be any mind you find you can wear with no wish to lie,
the wrong mind set with the ears and eyes, and we cannot lie…
you lose.
The whole ritual of prayer and supersites, tics, ****. We glow…

once illegal exposure
confidential, super-secret, super-positioned tyrannical systems,

whole cloth leprosy, black mold to dust time sequence…
-- such minds as fed us Elliot and Thorough Error-prone Poses,

as seen from the repressed mind of an unassimulated inate-ifity,
We are none of us, Adam sons, his model had nor repro circuits.

Hey, once there had to be something akin to ****** birth,
really, mitochondria developed virally, just fine, so, so fine,

imagine, we got the cell, a wall, with enzyme will efforts on the doors, we open to need, and useful matter is accepted,
as in another phase we open to expel the uselesshit, which then fills the red corpuscles, which use iron to hold the load.

Flushing blushing bride, Mito-mom, her daughters, imagine…

trackless wasteland, aftermath of minor miscalculation
in the dancing cosmos, whirling
whiling, smiling
inside…

I made it. 2022, Everest Pax, is the real name
of my youngest grand son, who randomly
reassures me he loves me, as though he wishes me
to not let that slip, naturally, his version of me is fragile,

what he imagines I am can disappear, in a day,
like Uncle Mike, and Uncle Dennis, and Uncle Richard,
and Uncle Remus…
none of whom were alive, when Everest Pax was named,
by his mother, with no input from me, save
the covenant aspect in the who gives this wombed man…
common pagan ritual adapted to post-Jesus Christ-sanity.

X-mas, nada mas. Agree, and take the cookie,
or risk another death,
on the real wrong battlefield… Well, what the hell… hero
or legend in my mind, thinking, what would any who do?

The President we'll call Philip
he was not able to get up
from reading the works of victories
of men who forced bending of knees
He dreamed of being of their ilk
of fame, glory, honey and milk
first he read the accounts of Troy
Scribbles in dust made by the boy
"Achilles, so brave and so strong
nothing you did was ever wrong.
Such purpose was in your fighting
A shame I only have writing
for I would have loved conversing
with you a man, none were cursing
How truly noble it was for
you, to return corpse of Hector
to his father who was King Priam
not without first making a dime.
You knew how to take all you could
but spared the King's life as you should".
Now he reads of Odysseus
"I wish he had been among us,
an educated wiser man,
Oh I just love all of his plans,
For Rhesus dwelling in white tents
(a symbol which surely had meant,
to show that he held no wealth)
in darkness Greeks would run in stealth
open the tents and move inside,
making sure those sleeping had died.
Odysseus you were clever,
**** the prophecies forever
You take fate into your own hands
mercy to **** a sleeping man,
so he would not have to suffer
through a way of death much tougher".
Next he reads of the Trojan horse
for which he cries and has remorse
"O Greeks, so valiant and so brave
why oh why this war can't you save?
you've lost Achilles, this I know,
but please oh please, please do not go".
(A note for readers there must be,
Philip reads only partial history,
he skips the parts without action,
The plot he knows just a fraction,
he wants to learn what he should do,
how and why have past been thought through)
"You've fought hard for the past ten years,
Now you give into foolish fears.
Stay the course and continue war,
What the **** were you fighting for?
To fight, lose and admit defeat?
but why leave a gift at the feet,
of Trojan gates that you despised?
at this I am very surprised".
Skipping ahead Philip did find
something that boggled his great mind,
"The Horse into Troy has been brought!
carrying the Greeks they had fought,
What a marvelous plan indeed
Hot **** I wish I could have seed
The god-like Greeks three days confined,
ambush the city in no time.
Mars must have blessed all of the Greeks
being the god of horses he seeks
to reward men bearing his sign
allowing plots to work out fine
The Greeks won and in such a way
killing all Trojans without delay,
Truly the will of the gods above
smiling down on Greeks they love
The noblest of all victories
men killing every enemy
since all Trojan men had held arms
no moral rule did the Greeks harm,
Mercy they gave to the women,
Grief sorrow and pain were ridden
by a blade so lovingly swung,
so they not see their husbands hung
Mercy to children given too,
with no parents they in days few
would starve, having integrity,
the Greeks took kids in groups of three
slit the throats of two quite nobly,
the last they put into slavery,
how kind it was to let one live,
and repaid by the work he gives,
I need not read on, I know now
Where to gain my glory and how.
A country resources many
So I can steal every penny
Lead a great, glorious attack
What country, Which? Of course Iraq.
A symbol? I need one to show
A ship, a banner, will it glow?
God is on my side I proclaim
I will do this deed using his name
I will be just in this conflict
A quick death to all I inflict
so they don't suffer through the pain
but let them sleep and fight in vain,
victory no matter how late
I use tricks to obliterate".
He throws the book, opens the door,
"I am going to lead you in WAR!!"
Yells at uninterested few
on the table sit books in view,
ones he did not open at all
Anabasis, A War Of Gaul,
Xerxes, Hannibal, lie unread,
not needing to know what they said.

I still find strands of your hair on my clothes

I’m so ****** tired of feeling compelled to suffer a penalty for you falling in love with me.

You knew I was a Jackal when you first tasted me.

I don’t owe you an apology for having survived nightmares, for loving you the best I could with what I had while horrible things were happening that I couldn’t tell you about.

I’m not an imposter, or a liar or less of a man than I presented as.

I fell in love with you and I didn’t want to.

We tried to staunch the blood still flowing from each other’s wounds…without knowing that we liked the taste.

It is summer, and I did survive, the spring.
--- some lines need reading to live
Feeling for a way to say, I know
how salvation came to be desired.

Tacitly, I trusted my mother, and then,
a baby sister who was soon to die came, and
now, the looking back, allows, a vision, plain to make.

The depths of knowledge, the cultural glue
of a nation that habitually enforces allies oath to join wars
- as one nation, under Truth, (or some may think God,)
to establish the final peace war is intending to make,
some day, when all the chaos is combed
from the wooly fungi empires leave
in hidden sacred reasons for war,
schisms with abysses and eternal confusion,
such as empowers the very sun, enfolding itself
and shining on emptiness much more than on us.
------------
In good time, make all things ryhme reason,
or harmonize with harm mitigation,
to tell the truth for no other reason, my mission in life.

A negative instruction, a macrophage idea, know
lies appear in truths bent to serve a lust, a power will,

Take my instruction, the proverb treasures whisper.
Listen, in prayer, the mental exercise, of using knowns

to make known seeds, easy as dandelions do.
------------
Once there was a war in vain,
still the concept of sheeple remains,
and patience continues to cost your life,
but the truth that makes the others free, cost

a ton of time to accumulate in the original chaotic will,
to do it again, more boom, make rooom

goin up country, rolling like a persistent moss,
on the affirmation enforced compression to fuse,

one simplicity to another sublimnity - ah, ready…

Anabasis, come and see, going up, from the root.

Seeded time, time set aside to use today, to read.

Sowing time used to inform knowlegends, plaiting
patterned recognosis, strands of tangled dreads

we think, therefore, we think we may learn to know,

aha, olden days, first boundary of safety, fire lit.
Shining thing that burns, and bites the hand
that feeds it.

Valuable knowledge, any creature knows, but
maybe moths do not know, but. who knows,
moths could be called to go up,
spark a collection of unrelated facts,
arise,
thou bald head, go up,
and the shining
head begins to glow, heat escaping infra-ready

Anger, the adult tantrum of the bald one mocked,
revives an old devil of a temper preserved,
handled with kid gloves, made

from the skin of the kid that did not get away.
Scaped goat joy is ours, we celebrate, we won.

By the grace, the undeserved favor, as for services
never needed already done, accept the fact,

the deed did leave a knowledge. We learn to trust,

our own peace for protection, we seclude our selves,
alone,

to face all our demons in mortal function demos,

come, divine idea, bright known shown, come
tell me of the way out of thankless joy dispairing.

We joined and brought children up and into our time,

the bubble of being at the surface of ever itself,
the all knowing known we all think of as the whole truth,

in the oath we mentally agree to affirm,
thereby we all, solidify, the rock, on which this thing,

this wedom, you, you plurally, and me, reflecting

shining things, sure, affectually, certain as stars,
for holding storied points in the progression to now,

Time tellers held their knowing in time teller rules
to know by and to go by,

and when secrets called for instant reference, ahs,
and has, have beens and professed to follow sigh-signs

and wonder if we ever learns, as we learn once more,

evermore, is the cultural equivalent of infinity, and beyond.

I accumulate ghosts the way other men collect trophies

Four conspiracy passages were left by the flash of the Greek mercenaries who left the troops of Darius III since the deployments of Iso to Alexander were part of an ultra invasion when Athens was subjected by Xerxes, here is the laudatory trust of Alexander Magno in Vernarth knowing that he had to meet again in the vicinity of Skalá where the Achaemenides' supplies would arrive. Neither Cassander, Ptolemy, nor Aristobulus had the precognition of Vernarth to have the resistance that was already coming with the Airs of the Granic, Iso, and the Siege of Arbela. Events struggled with each other to combine with significant silences, something like an amplified apnea to later grasp the ephemeris of the bleeding hands of Vernarth who longed to dry him out in some unconverted faithful of pagan Gods, when they saw the relatively widespread propagation of the absent in the revived panoply, that Vernarth would shake from the files of the Marble dust in allusion to a submitological military policy, with suspicions that allude to the archives of the Codex Raedus, in the greatest parapsychological bilocation of the Sybillas for those who prescribe the effective and untested faith of a chancellor, who continues to be the incense of Hellenic blood for millions of kilometers around, from a heavy Olympian democracy, who anticipated Atmospheric Changes with the lifeless voice of the Kassotide source, crystallizing in the reviews of the great advance of a few hectares in fires from Hylates, to wake up with his fumarole in the Vas Auric as the only and presumed active amazement of the super and multi parapsychological genre, before a final time, so that the interests that make the rise of the high testimony deserve are conclusively accepted, where Vernarth's Anabasis rewrites it in his autobiography with the exploits that they will advance the story where Vernarth's foreshortenings will three-dimensionalize the fineness of the fold that supports his profile, in the lightning flashes that resolve the protective ambages character, which predicts the escapes and splendid resignations of the mercenary soldiers who joined personal and chromatic renewed, to then subtract in trifles of those who have never had a thousand murderous ideologies, containing them so as not to be blamed for stoning a brother, who made the thick eyes of someone who wears a Xiphos, being able to have temporary amnesia, then adorning the ceilings where the keepers left their quivers empty of Artemis and Aorion. Leaving behind all the things that in parallel seem to be a comedy, if it is that some soldier was not going to wail on the huts of Xerxes, not being a Hoplite, but positively if it were Achilles who is prostrated before both, they will mourn Vernarth and Alexander Great, with the supernatural vividness of the divine biosphere, where she will all bow!

Vernarth at that moment was preparing to return to Patmos, he plunged into the Marmara, swimming several kilometers in yew trees over hydraulic potholes that threatened to swallow him up. Here there were still feminine essences of Heles, some Stymphalos and Gerakis flying over the aquifer depression of Vernarth with which he wrote the imprint of his overflowing "Totus Tuum Ergo Sum". Here he himself sensed Heracles in the depth of the macro drops that turned into a great solid bank of golden sand, which he held after losing the perspective of him by losing consciousness of him. He spent a long time on that promontory of explosive silica, with large Cinnabar attachments that harmonized to be able to breathe and from here prophesy the changes of the Era and its subsequent Atmospheric Changes since the cessation of the Kassotide, making nuances of sanity in a reciprocal way to the great heroes who longed to be with him, and save him from the waters that at this point were equivalent to huge mountains of the sea that would pour prophecies of disability, moving the changes of the world with the will of the muscle that already flattered his enormous superhuman capacity, to resist the unconscious sea, only being the stereotypical conventional figure swinging. In the end, after regaining consciousness of him, he moves his arms, filing the sub-floor of the seabed, later on catapulting himself from a margin towards a sacrifice, which was already emerging as a prediction that would be his affront on Patmos.

The behavior of both leaders grew similar to a sacrifice never existed before, both perched in the mountainous meadows near Skalá, seeming to cover more than two hundred meters on their backs with their backs, and their legs stretched beyond 200 meters in length. . They both faced each other in the face of the mountain of the Thuellai and the Profitis Ilias leaning on Vernarth. Both were seated in the customary Akashika channel that traced them through different places, over the temple of the Apostle Saint John that floated through the air and passed between them, the herds passed through the legs of both sitting in these valleys that crossed the Profitis and the Alturas del Thuellai, towards the slopes of the river that also passed under the muscles of the huge Alexander the Great and Vernarth, who had undergone an exaggerated transfiguration of their body, after macroscopic from a platform with a silver miter to give the emphasis of rivers of myrrh that would fill the valleys, from where the two leaders rested before starting their trip to the Island.

All this was a dreamlike infrastructure full of cantilena auras and rituals between the two of them sitting in this immense region of rams that crossed between them. This path became so repetitive that it would limit the south and fill them with its rain in the afternoon to wake up from this dreamlike fantasy. From this northern reverie, they wake up and look at each other and greet each other Khaire. Then the sustentáculos formed by the south of the Aegean when leaving the arched path rose on the torrid volcanic masses from where it suddenly reactivated with its volcanic area, Patmos gave indications of rising to the sky, leaving everything in the central crater with the capriciousness of the Profitis Ilias who refused to increase his height by joining with the Prasovouno, mitigating the ex-Kartika volcanic spelling to allow them to definitively awaken both leaders with the crossed Xiphos, who came down from the 269-meter Profitis breastplate until equaling that of the Prasovonuno with its 237 meters Tall.