Hard words flowing from a soft pen, turning fondly into thoughts–as God, my God, guides with fluid snow that which will melt every heart. I want to continue, not ever having cared for endings–happy or otherwise. And I will do as I desire, whether imprisoned or free–it doesn’t matter. Smooth as black glass rippling in the twilight: reflections of a star, never knowing its effect on the glass or those who view it. Gentle as silent, giant waves, refusing to be still, yet unheard, except to those who see the reflection and refuse to allow catastrophic events blind the world to its elegance.
