Rest assured opportunities and disappointment forever dance. The sins of flesh and consumption of alcohol fill the void torn from the eager heart's mind. The dust of war has settled, but parts forever strangled by the roots of ruin and disappointment. Still and cold is the heart, the eyes, and their vulnerable six o'clock. Drive on, with torment, no, reeducation negating that total disillusion of those sappy doctrinal manifestations of that elusive creature named love. It should be shot, frozen, pent up with hyped enthusiasm… sigh… shaken off as a myth. Grey moments of a child, untamed and free of being let down, flicker with the light, and fade to realization that imagination hurts, intuition, not faith, is a word worth following, and, no matter what, feeling the tickle of rain will always make you smile. To navigate bitter beacons of cold harsh seas further exacerbate that hunger for warmth and comfort. Love waits, wanders, weathers, yet never fades, and forever burns in us all…
Pulse-^-
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