BlesT

Drifting elsewhere, free from core, agitated to find the shore, I wail in fury clasping oar, shutting eyes and bawling more. The birth of history sprouts with it. little fingers fill out knit, tiny claws buds adagio lit, and framework extends wide and bright. It dates too soon as mane loose tone, staring straight at rhymes he has sewn, on the life, he saw and foresee clone- for the lives to be born. for the acne worn and agony faced, for the joy that passed and coy since aged, he lives in marked for the acnes: Acnes of life that turned him right. * 1  core - (in context)mother's womb   * 2  agitated - feeling/appealing troubled or nervous   * 3 shore  - a piece of land *4  clasp- grasp tightly with one hand    *5 wail  - prolonged high pitched cry   *6  oar - a pole with a flat blade.    *7  bawl - .shout/call out noisily *8  sprout  - put out shoots/grow   *9  adagio - slowly...

 All our life is a fantasy, more we go it takes inside, in a zone that takes out past. Towards a zone that makes our past; Keeping space for the new future, All we live incognito. Much with eager, I got into there, a world of freedom and fantasy, creeps ahead in desultory, to farm our ego as pointless. At a dot, we get an ink, as reality hints another thought, "Existence of life takes charge- solely with an impression. which is futile without the past, the sense we feel and about to see". caressing about the past we left, facing just the scene upright, kissing at the bash to come. all we live in impression. quitting strangership behind, burning grim in dark beyond, I live forward in a blatant light, never turning back my face further. Strangership is an illution,  fanciful as an infection in the ultimate mirage of existace sprouting up an irony. * 1  desultory - wander without plans   * 2  caressing - gentle pat or motion of hands as a sign of love ...