Searching for Tomorrow

This consecration was made with no variations from text.  The next day is still 24 hours away, yet they may find that the threads that wind about the spool will find me about how I still want to get another spool.  My mother knows I am a fool, yet still the will of God is a different interpretation from some who also know where I come from.

The green house, to blue, to white.  The meld of how the Khans and the Shards are part of what forms from the sight.  Certain that the curtains close on the opening act, I also shared that I make and break a pact.  I cannot refract the ideas of my own self without there being another to receive, unless I cleave the truth from my youth to the facts of the booth.

Sitting well in both heaven and hell, the poetics gel and set the moulds made from some who wade in the warm drink.  Writing is a way to form a link of thought to those that have brought their eyes upon the words.  Birds pass by and find the music in the mind’s eye to apply decades before the birth of the reasons of the sky.  We may not know why, yet there is a debt to be relayed and paid with our own tones of thought.

Some have brought a web of the True Cyber Ebb into how the ducks and the geese are also pulled out and strung up like some fleece.  Our different crafts and ideas are in the meld of what is, even if I still need to learn how to handle the stories of the fizz.

A kind drink of voice makes the choice to meld the weld of the crads and how I remember also some people from before they were grads.  This goes back to before I was one.

I am an only sun, and though the lines have been spun like spines from some signs left along the way, bereft of being seffed is something that some stones may appreciate (like melancholy tones of some who know how to handle the clones).  Tone of the Mox outline the colours of the chalks that fuse of the pinks, yellows, and blues.  I need to shift my views.

Though ruse is a way some fuse, the cues of the speech also breach the outlines of the atmosphere and clear the stars into her year, and how I also know we must wait for more than another year.  I cannot clear some of the mix that other people cannot seem to hear from their own being seeing deep into the eyes of the one who shall clear their fear into how one tries.

The guise of mind also allows the ploughs to wind through the field and wield the light and love and laughter, and find that we also know there are some that will help us carry on past and after.  I know not.  They show the plot.  You speak like a dot.  Yet together this fabric of space reminds us that the material is no longer made from the cloth that was shaped similarity to a spade.

I dawdle along the shoreline sharing a sign of few, yet still the lines meld the pairing of the core design that some coddle.  The muddle of words shall make sense to the birds, while thirds hold the shape of a lost stereo tape.  I was told to not drop names, as claims of who and how also share the wares of the stellar cow who also shines like the asparagus that was added correctly by another one to suss.

The bus transports some in shorts to cohorts of the ports, and while the rhymes file and weave into that you perceive, even when being random, sometimes it’s as explicit as a weave of that you believe.  Page One.  Book Four?  Side door?  Open, or explore?

I sometimes want to say that I don’t know me anymore.  I also tend the thought that some things are to be forever unwound and found to be in the glee of the snot.  Pick a line to share the sign, and find that some with spine will make the effort to be there for the games that start at nine.  Few references told will hold the mould, yet still be positive and bold and remember that some people also don’t respond well when not asked, and rather told.

The folds of the crane show the neural pathways remain, and though the rain of chips will share some on their trips, the idea also grips the road with the code to load the beat.  Some may wish to repeat and bleat not as a pet, yet still to till the ideas of the greetings that we’ve not been allowed to share yet.

Hi!  How are you!?!?  *toss toss* to some and few.  The facts that I must renew are also partly what I should be planning to do.  There are some who do remind me that I am kind, and there are some that I act totally differently than when I talk or hear from another.  There are some that love like brother.  There are some who will never comprehend my mother.  There are some that come from beyond the grave to save.  There are some that are given grace, yet cannot correct their own mistakes in how I behave.

I like life.  It’s a pretty cool thing.  I have been allowed to bring so many words and ideas forward, and though I may not know how the PLU8R shall help us be insured because some of what I say is needed to be heard.  The forces of the tides share guides and rides for the wares that some calls forward from all sides, yet still the will of all is what allows us to learn and speak and crawl.

Some have been dearly kind to me.  Thank you.  Some have been gracious and allowed us in their homes.  Thank you.  Some have encouraged us to be ourselves, and some have reminded me that twelves a good time to sleep, yet still the sands of the day must be passed before I’m allowed to weep.  I keep a notion in my potion and skip her across the ocean with devotion, as some people remind me that there are millions in the mix, when I wrote this at 12:26.

I thank you for grace.  I thank God for allowing me this place.  I think her smiling face, and remember that there are some things outside the lines that will help us remember how this is meant to trace.  Bass bins and kins spins find the pins holding up the poster.  The lines of some other people also recall how they said it was like popping some bread into the toaster.  They’ve misled us clear as water, though the thirst and lunger hold to help me remember to be a potter.  Shape and mould.  Choose the form of what’s been told.  I may not know the flow, though the unions of some are to help us grow.

I give my being to freeing lives into how I’ve been told to hold some strives to improve off the vinyl groove, and remembering also some friends (like the Taiga) that said “I don’t care if you approve!”.  Though I do.  Thanks for your approval and not aiding others with their wants of my removal, for the soul is dear and True, sometimes, even when you may not want for it to be so too.

Love, Light, Luck, and Life…



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