08.23.05

again

Sitting in golden hammock and that caramel sky, thinking, dreaming over baubles floating gingerly over finger tips. Marvel at them and smile a bit, only such, only so and no more as the flit across fingers so lightly in this amber in this hazy brown and chocolate latte.
So after the screaming and the tears � the fabrics of it were so very formulaic then hush up quietly to avoid any further damage- how gently and acceptance come. How genial it is to think, yes of course that is the path. And then of course, those are the tree, calling to you, anointing you and your path and hovering. You warm your face to the dew and the fog of the morning with infant eyes unopened.
A few moments of lucidity make for a rather sad scene. But, now with this hammock thinking of things, there is no reason for anything other. Biding time, waiting to understand.
Meanwhile. Meanwhile there are spider�s web�s falling apart in the background entirely ignored as they take down the sky.

shi-ou-sama at 5:26 p.m.

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