I detect fears that reek like worst nightmares, swarms of bugs and things.
Love, is not like this to men,
Oh no more, the way blood was never necessary to be spilt.
Under the carpet is swept maroon secrets and cast away dreams- ship-wrecked somewhere, I wonder if they have yet,
To discover an island, or land.
Surrender is the life force of humility. I am perhaps stubborn because too many are not.
Innate, in green plant form, is miraculous life. The color of life gestates as Gaia's womb, where faery magick is once again made whole.
Tribes die, and rebirth, and you and I have met again, have we not? Perhaps?
Nay. Even as a psychic, I tell you, it matter not, where u come from, but rather
What you be.
Who do you be?
Action is the divine mark of God. Repentance another. Correction another. There are many, and where the ships have set for Hates, I escape. My soul is free- God's never choosing for me.
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