Effulgent tinctures swirled abound the dimming vault of heaven, yellow, pink, orange, red and grey where the light refused to settle upon. Each enhanced a summer marshalling, arranging to hustle to various points of nature’s horizon tier. And beneath eve’s commotion established she, a callow being inclined to athwart the strip bound for maturity. Her fell burnished that of decrept snow, and whilst she stood within the fingers of the slaughtered sun, it’s colours combined with her own, and they united as one. A carving in tandem with the saffron orb itself, and as it lapsed remote through landscapes ken, she couldn’t bare to let it go. Her essence revolved around the sphere, her frame of mind determined by the ornament of dawn to dusk. And yet,the globe appeared now gone, and every shadow leapt at its departure with the ease of opportunity, they seized her hide with a somewhat sigh of relief, and hauled her beyond into the pith of dwelling darkness.


Every second day went by with a sigh of relief, what use is the first when your uncertainty lingers bound to the shadows of a foreign wilderness, a scene for the robust, with the agrarians scope bathed in it’s tarn of hostility. Fantasize… there’s no such thing, dreams are a mere idol bestowed atop a rock, its vitality who vaults about each branch of a snow gum, and its marrow is what prisons us here. The sun, the moon, twain eyes of a bystander, and the stars… solely freckles on a face, the infant (bystander) cultured and flourished with every footfall from mortality below. And she, she mimicked that of the observer, acquainting each leaf and blossom anon. Wading through enrichments of a dungeoned life, and pursuing those accordingly… the ones which were special.