The fortune of opportunity relishes consternation of pretense,
the friction analysis principal applies to a sense of extricate awareness.
I am but a hologram, an instant camera shutter glitch. Searching for indemnity
in a soul scorched word, a turned sentence of calamity is fate.
All that I am is through an amalgam of redistribution of stranglehold judgments that pierce my flimsy armor.
But to quiet the outrage of nearsighted fusion of indignant disharmony,
I welcome the profusion of instability , and what seems, becomes a mandate,
and what is real rakes the embers of yesterday’s fire aside,
and radiant solace entices my crooked glance,
invites my austerity to consider the breath I take as more than exact furtiveness,
but omnivorously absolute magnificence. – Sinz