Render me anathema's effigy; inculcate my folly to the protean howl. Upon your self bequeathed carte blanche, lightly feigning it a mere ober dictum, you incrementally establish yourself my aficionado. Then from this faux podium deliver a coup de grace, all for sake of petty revenge and puerile self sovereignty.
Spring crossed the rubicon and so summer became. Profligate was she with nature’s most vivid inks, a master in the art of the synergistic pastiche. And so, within the largesse of gentle heat, within the tempered erratic days of rain, she became the very effigy of the licentious view. For what is aromatic poetry without a liberty or two? What is such visual splendour if bees should be marshalled and butterflies drilled? No! No! That won’t do! For summer is a freeform dance, an annual boogaloo!
Spring crossed the rubicon and so summer became. Profligate was she with nature’s most vivid inks, a master in the art of the synergistic pastiche. And so, within the largesse of gentle heat, within the tempered erratic days of rain, she became the very effigy of the licentious view. For what is aromatic poetry without a liberty or two? What is such visual splendour if bees should be marshalled and butterflies drilled? No! No! That won’t do! For summer is a freeform dance, an annual boogaloo!
Spring crossed the rubicon and so summer became. Profligate was she with nature’s most vivid inks, a master in the art of the synergistic pastiche. And so, within the largesse of gentle heat, within the tempered erratic days of rain, she became the very effigy of the licentious view. For what is aromatic poetry without a liberty or two? What is such visual splendour if bees should be marshalled and butterflies drilled? No! No! That won’t do! For summer is a freeform dance, an annual boogaloo!
A loquacious breeze, all a-chitter chatter, its infinite words a most merry amorphous blur, arrived on the first day of spring. Jocund it was, warm and gay, spritely, air pirouettes spun with grace. The new aromas of buds, of foliage and petals too, it bore as a happy task, an honour bestowed to few and accepted with robust humility. Yet it would not be a somber thing, this bringer of sweet scent, yet a gregarious jester of unspoken largesse.
A loquacious breeze, all a-chitter chatter, its infinite words a most merry amorphous blur, arrived on the first day of spring. Jocund it was, warm and gay, spritely, air pirouettes spun with grace. The new aromas of buds, of foliage and petals too, it bore as a happy task, an honour bestowed to few and accepted with robust humility. Yet it would not be a somber thing, this bringer of sweet scent, yet a gregarious jester of unspoken largesse.
A loquacious breeze, all a-chitter chatter, its infinite words a most merry amorphous blur, arrived on the first day of spring. Jocund it was, warm and gay, spritely, air pirouettes spun with grace. The new aromas of buds, of foliage and petals too, it bore as a happy task, an honour bestowed to few and accepted with robust humility. Yet it would not be a somber thing, this bringer of sweet scent, yet a gregarious jester of unspoken largesse.
“Twas a pernicious wind that cleared the path and froze the arboreal blooms, for it abhorred the largesse of Lady Autumn. Rather, it saluted only the greyest of solemnitude. This draft you see was a contemptuous fellow, as witty as he was prodigal. So whence comes he and doths his cap faux-earnestly – gesturing toward the leaf-strewn way, gesturing toward the defrocking trees, – I beseech you remember, remember, remember this forewarning. Let foreboding, let icy dread, fill both soles and heart. At once decry his surreptitious service and bay winter’s ghoul depart.
“Twas a pernicious wind that cleared the path and froze the arboreal blooms, for it abhorred the largesse of Lady Autumn. Rather, it saluted only the greyest of solemnitude. This draft you see was a contemptuous fellow, as witty as he was prodigal. So whence comes he and doths his cap faux-earnestly – gesturing toward the leaf-strewn way, gesturing toward the defrocking trees, – I beseech you remember, remember, remember this forewarning. Let foreboding, let icy dread, fill both soles and heart. At once decry his surreptitious service and bay winter’s ghoul depart.
“Twas a pernicious wind that cleared the path and froze the arboreal blooms, for it abhorred the largesse of Lady Autumn. Rather, it saluted only the greyest of solemnitude. This draft you see was a contemptuous fellow, as witty as he was prodigal. So whence comes he and doths his cap faux-earnestly – gesturing toward the leaf-strewn way, gesturing toward the defrocking trees, – I beseech you remember, remember, remember this forewarning. Let foreboding, let icy dread, fill both soles and heart. At once decry his surreptitious service and bay winter’s ghoul depart.
Dead leaves swarmed as machiavellian cabal, fervent in the first foment of winter. As eager accomplice wind was sangfroid, patient, observing, selecting the time most sublime to savour a spot of obloquy. What a delicious coup! What sweet cultural sedition! Encipher true order, subvert expectations, observe a state of meticulous alertness! Between leaves, wind and chill it was impossible to explain the instinct all betook for caution. For time out of mind not a soul could recall a case of late fall so sinister.
Dead leaves swarmed as machiavellian cabal, fervent in the first foment of winter. As eager accomplice wind was sangfroid, patient, observing, selecting the time most sublime to savour a spot of obloquy. What a delicious coup! What sweet cultural sedition! Encipher true order, subvert expectations, observe a state of meticulous alertness! Between leaves, wind and chill it was impossible to explain the instinct all betook for caution. For time out of mind not a soul could recall a case of late fall so sinister.
Dead leaves swarmed as machiavellian cabal, fervent in the first foment of winter. As eager accomplice wind was sangfroid, patient, observing, selecting the time most sublime to savour a spot of obloquy. What a delicious coup! What sweet cultural sedition! Encipher true order, subvert expectations, observe a state of meticulous alertness! Between leaves, wind and chill it was impossible to explain the instinct all betook for caution. For time out of mind not a soul could recall a case of late fall so sinister.
Dead leaves swarmed as machiavellian cabal, fervent in the first foment of winter. As eager accomplice wind was sangfroid, patient, observing, selecting the time most sublime to savour a spot of obloquy. What a delicious coup! What sweet cultural sedition! Encipher true order, subvert expectations, observe a state of meticulous alertness! Between leaves, wind and chill it was impossible to explain the instinct all betook for caution. For time out of mind not a soul could recall a case of late fall so sinister.
Bleakest night laced itself with a frigid wind, a frigid wind threading intricate wire loops. Upon it was borne an impugning moan of curdling audacity. Cry! Cry! So it went on! Such a cruel limping immorality! As a faithful servant of winter’s seal the howl sublimated its passions, for a deft hand ‘twas it in creation of pretty snow and ice; so much delight did it bring. Yet on this most cold of days, ere nightfall was in full-flow, we fled down the cobbled street. We fled fleece-wrapped and sought sanctuary with faithful kith and kin.
Bleakest night laced itself with a frigid wind, a frigid wind threading intricate wire loops. Upon it was borne an impugning moan of curdling audacity. Cry! Cry! So it went on! Such a cruel limping immorality! As a faithful servant of winter’s seal the howl sublimated its passions, for a deft hand ‘twas it in creation of pretty snow and ice; so much delight did it bring. Yet on this most cold of days, ere nightfall was in full-flow, we fled down the cobbled street. We fled fleece-wrapped and sought sanctuary with faithful kith and kin.
The wind was a zealot, a follower of destruction’s code. In hellacious mood it blew, it slew, it cut in blindest rage. Such was the insanity of that storm, that hurricane. There ne’er was a scream so wild. There ne’er was a torrent so thick. There ne’er was a cloud bank so oily-dense as that skyward barricade. Though ere long we assumed it’d pass, such violence is ne’er born to last long, it was a rent to soul and heart, a wrench of trauma’s hand.
The tornado was a twisted scream, an ire bent into a hellacious wrath. Ere long we would be ripped apart. Ere long all that we knew would be gone. Such is the way of wind-born beasts. Of empathy, they have none. Of malice, they have much. My heart was an automaton as the wind blew on, not from the call of coldness, nor the self-preservation's siren call, yet from a rationale of stoicism. Come the morrow, whate'er still stands. I will be ready to rebuild.
Each eventide gargoyle shadows warp past a metre long, then twist-erase themselves into nothingness. For it is nightfall’s noble habitude, it’s purview and duty to discharge, to clear the canvas of all that’s been in readiness for dawn’s empyreal mirth. So rest easy while they stretch. Fear not the pavement cracks. Ere long each vanishes as certainly as the clocks turn. Time marches and, to its beat, they have but a scant and withering retort, cloaked as it is in lies.
Each eventide gargoyle shadows warp past a metre long, then twist-erase themselves into nothingness. For it is nightfall’s noble habitude, it’s purview and duty to discharge, to clear the canvas of all that’s been in readiness for dawn’s empyreal mirth. So rest easy while they stretch. Fear not the pavement cracks. Ere long each vanishes as certainly as the clocks turn. Time marches and, to its beat, they have but a scant and withering retort, cloaked as it is in lies.
The repartee of moon and stars disguised itself as night birdsong, from the mirth of day's shadow they conjured wings. From the pleasant bonhomie of the brooks they wove the melody. Then chitter, chatter it went on, threading through all the land. It was this way at nightfall, ne’er ceasing until just ere dawn. And, in this gay subterfuge they were full-pleased. From whence this magic came, none could say, yet every heart it did bestir, every dream it did render full-bright.
Ere long, save for the cosset of galaxies, we shall be safe in the folds of blackest night. Hold on! Hold on! Within her velvety breeze the grilling rubicund rays are snubbed to a smokeless nought. Upon the graphite path we shall skip, feet light. For nightfall can be a saviour, as heaven’s cooling sigh. From roots to boughs - come eventide - nature’s soul rebounds, reclaims her knights and guards them with a mother’s heart, writing her retort in inky starlight, “I keep what’s mine and evil beware, enemies find no quarter here.”
Even his "Hey," would sting; it was a bee-waspish thing, fashioned from an ingot of ore. His lips bore a boorish unsmile, never quite a frown you see, but functioned as the very same. It wasn't simply a cold misery, yet a deeper negation of joy, a smothering of positivity. All this he achieved, this most backwards of accomplishments, with a full-featured sulk every day. Even if you were the happiest soul, a fishing boat on bonny waves, nets in the brine, he'd beach you, drag you over the stones, with barely a sideways glance.
Even his "Hey," would sting; it was a bee-waspish thing, fashioned from an ingot of ore. His lips bore a boorish unsmile, never quite a frown you see, but functioned as the very same. It wasn't simply a cold misery, yet a deeper negation of joy, a smothering of positivity. All this he achieved, this most backwards of accomplishments, with a full-featured sulk every day. Even if you were the happiest soul, a fishing boat on bonny waves, nets in the brine, he'd beach you, drag you over the stones, with barely a sideways glance.
There is nought so raw as the ebbing of numbness; it brings a volcanic spew, full hot, full raw. The fires of injustice are an inferno, but angel heart beware, take care; for it will consume all of you. Your soul it will render to ash, then it will incinerate your ashes too. Not a mote of what you once were, will exist evermore. So hold on, have patience, let it morph into righteous anger, that little known cousin of wrath. Your emotion is a fine thread yet, remember, always remember, what matters is the cloth you weave.
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