Fearlessstars 9 Posted June 22, 2020 What matters is that some souls are loyal to the mind, not falling into years and holding youth by image saint. Echoes of wisdom by candle’s bright, orchestrated shades between the gentle light. Freedom of the noted speech in poetic rhyme, knowing the love source as delicate humane. Bearing off the longing searching riddle, chosen sacred bride as ever constant middle. Taken old crabbed mysteries into new perspective, cutting strains beyond life’s connective. Holding passion as strength of thought, the bounty of blossom from light of night besought. The firmament of changing peace and its multiple rights, captured reflections through many lives lights. Perplexed synchronicities in stories told, the old in the new forever bold. Torches of bewilderment raised by politics, hushes for the exited lunatics. Not seeing the picture of the text, and inquiring the if possible next. The solitary truth as implacable straight line realm, the wandering horizon of the architected dream. A livelong hour in a little story painted, when the moon swam in full by compassion sainted. The anxiety of that passionate youth, as miracle of knowledge introduced. Grow slowly exquisite spring blossoming dear, the songs of the fairy bird so gently near. Hearts of weary and wonder like the sea, cleansing waters by love’s inheritance to be free.