the warmth is inside you. Just look. Deeper, and deeper. That willow stands tall. More like a wall. It takes an aeon to stride across. Unless you can see with galopping spirit, vision and feeling. Across, into, out of, within, around for, of, about, apart of the wall, the hemisphere, the dimensions and the putrid isle and the swamps. Just an attempt. And there the pun!tuatio,n flows rancid.!.;; the might the dearth the core the fore.
The fringe, the mellow, the fortress and the fallow.
The hint of ray that echoes like shower.
The patch of bounce that moves like symphony.
The mere everything that takes you without it.
Classification to the non-conformist,
Polarity to the society,
A merry-go round for the focus.
That. This. What?