the illusion calls us to return. but time corrupts. daily we become more entangled in the mesh of the present, and the blind hope for a reconstruction of yesterday’s kisses in a dimming tomorrow until the attrition of hours, and reason, and petty defeat leaves us with nothing more than the unqualifying acceptance of desolate cathartic affirmatives, and weary whispered monotones. anything to blind us as time corrupts.
Joan Evans

Ending… entangled inconsistently

Not( knots) … myStyles

Poetry… requires…….. aWriting

Ya………. “ takes River Risking..

Flowers 🌺

Hmmm … flowing upons endless…

. Times

. Shalom Sharing now ✌️