Cessation is the explanation to my privileges of trust,
I can make glories and prides in leaps and bounds, and
every flit and wriggle, I'm compared to 
dark fire, that which fireflies may tribe to.
I want to breathe lichen and pond in equal part to all part.
Everything is but a part, expectation and wait being
such tragic animals that they leave us animals in
lovely ruin that is traversed by small hands and
curious eyes. My kingdom of love and
beauty will have epicenter here in this 
sacred place, plain language the only to be
used, all wear crown and all rule as all are
gods upon this soil, and the peace of wild
children is reached, as well as eternal
youth, in that we are as Pan and his
nymphs, forever bound in holy curiosity.
I can see his finger trail and turbulate the 
very waters of breath, a hurricane breaches
the mind, ransacking its validity and reliability
in that it is nothing. I cannot wait to see 
your face framed with the moon's 
love of leaves, only static concepts for
you the interpret in futility, a lion lies in
wait for the filling of lungs and-