Who else has been praying and dreaming?
About all the things that could have been done
The sight right ever so broad ahead of the eyes capable in its gifted degree to command the conscious into doing involuntary act of projecting the series of walking probabilities –of ever examining up close the object of adoration in indefinite counting.
The least spent was plastered and left the soul in the jar of thought; to then wonder the heart capability to bear what had been overborne to him mind. He sunk deep weening should that day never existed whether then his taking breath rhyming the least steady as back before he lied the sight on the stomach’s butterfly.
But then time ticking still, it was captivating only to the eyes turn out to be ever so depicting, to the heart beguiling because the beyond spoke a matter of cloudy weather. The soul in swing, the soul gave him puzzling. ‘Will you let me in? To illuminate a dim light to your sorrow? Be weary of the worn mask‘ .
Who else is living?
But dulled with all the things that were done