The winds of change blow through the trees with the heart of a mad monkey swinging wildl above the mantle of an incandescent moon in a desert forest. – Esinz
Am I Rumi mad, absurd in ashes of charred dedications of insufficient truculence, forthright, diligent, ungracious, fervent verministic caustic mad? Have I let go the travestic nonsequituristic travails of redemptive fortitude? Given away to the sea’s vacumous current, sucked down to eel’s nest, the pale doom of emptiest privation. I smile at with turned down brow the retro examinations of my travails and meanderings in my quest for exemptitude of stick form bonds. To touch a corner of my truth, I lie to my brethren senses. I circumvent my challenge with the weak moments of reflection. But, I travel still, incredulous, in search of the harmony of unknowing. – Sinz