Passing of Morning’s Dew

Foul and wretched stench of life’s sweetest memories

Image taken by Author. At 17,453 feet above sea level, my thoughts wander and sing

Like a ton of bricks — smacked upside the head — little understanding of how another’s perceptual thought of self-centered reality humbly walked their talk. Accusations fly — entering atmospheric pressures from outer realms of far most galaxies — three possibilities for processing claim.