And I should know such cold as to draw in winters breath at a time when summer broaches the horizon
The season of telling existence
Would the world bow weeping at a tale sobering and tangled?
For the years lapsed,
rebuilding offered the only respite
I could be a million miles abandoned and feel the pang of sunlight in absence
Endless days of perseverance in witness to contempt's' breech of truth
Scarred for the passive apologetic(s) who would capture the right in lieu of honest hardship
Facades are arson to justification
Reaction, afterall is symptomatic of origin
Spoil the battle weary and bloodied
Negate glorification of those drowning in veiled squander
Reciprocation of loves endurance is the preventative measure;
ingredient to avoid latter blame
And I should know such a glorious story told
of passion riddled with anguish to better fold in a blind enemy
than vest a friend less respect...
From my hand to yours,
Sawyer
Saint Andrews
