Creatures of chaos, tribes of tomorrow training to prove the triumph of will turning fresh soil which has harboured some good reacharging the batteries to lighten the load- A mainstream of minnows thrash tails without endings a flurry of features blur into focus faces appear where hands held redemption. Smiles of soft winds blow ears into trumpets eyes roam in the light making sense in the head.
Limbs loosen their longing and stride into laughter running a riot in lines of pure red.
Each of us die a little death- a reminder of mortality. We live a little life and broach the bridge to span the centuries where man invades swamps hope, starves thought dries out conviction stalks off earth's rim to outer limits lunges at the moon and strides without purpose to another side, learns one thing to wreck another havoc bears its own destruct.