Functions of the patience on a "Don't look down" sentiment testing limits of resolve with a one time "Do it yourself" prescient.
Parallel Easter Island sentinels; erring of the pedestals to rise blankly for point pressure on darkness gradient
A spot light of idolatry holding pace with frantic cacophony ragged shoes scuffing pavement, but I still taste it.
If ever to be faceless- simply on visual observation, hold ranks among maintenance trying to transmute iron staircases to more glittering ascensions.
Hold my attention.
Hold my hand.
Hold something more than irking a bleak survival from the land.
Lets walk, lets build, lets pull a strain on the intellect, I'm out of breath from the chase let's take a moment to rest.
You see these trees, these flowers, this divinity? I know it will burn before we ever taste the camaraderie.
Next time we slip on this bender of an existence, remind me to tap ribs and take stock of density and pistons.
Do they keep pace basic with the stomping of my feet? Do they match the frantic panic of shaking cages on the beg for release?
Do they kick and sputter on lack of conviction? You're right maybe I should throw a tarp on to keep the rust off this engine.
Move for revenge, redemption, and radiance
Refill the canteens on endurance and patience
Straighten focus on pent up perspective and dignity
Sacrifice my soul on the altar of clarity.
No intention for soap box mentality, only a heavenly salve on the "please god kill me" single mindset reality.
The trees and the bushes, singing birds and gentle breezes.
This place holds too much weight to be written off as seamless.
Doesn't taste right but stepping proper direction with rationality plate mail and self sharpening perspective.
Holy grail quests on rabid bunnies and black knights.
Trapped on burning plains with Camelot's glittering towers in sight.
Parallel Easter Island sentinels; erring of the pedestals to rise blankly for point pressure on darkness gradient
A spot light of idolatry holding pace with frantic cacophony ragged shoes scuffing pavement, but I still taste it.
If ever to be faceless- simply on visual observation, hold ranks among maintenance trying to transmute iron staircases to more glittering ascensions.
Hold my attention.
Hold my hand.
Hold something more than irking a bleak survival from the land.
Lets walk, lets build, lets pull a strain on the intellect, I'm out of breath from the chase let's take a moment to rest.
You see these trees, these flowers, this divinity? I know it will burn before we ever taste the camaraderie.
Next time we slip on this bender of an existence, remind me to tap ribs and take stock of density and pistons.
Do they keep pace basic with the stomping of my feet? Do they match the frantic panic of shaking cages on the beg for release?
Do they kick and sputter on lack of conviction? You're right maybe I should throw a tarp on to keep the rust off this engine.
Move for revenge, redemption, and radiance
Refill the canteens on endurance and patience
Straighten focus on pent up perspective and dignity
Sacrifice my soul on the altar of clarity.
No intention for soap box mentality, only a heavenly salve on the "please god kill me" single mindset reality.
The trees and the bushes, singing birds and gentle breezes.
This place holds too much weight to be written off as seamless.
Doesn't taste right but stepping proper direction with rationality plate mail and self sharpening perspective.
Holy grail quests on rabid bunnies and black knights.
Trapped on burning plains with Camelot's glittering towers in sight.