So many sailboats, so full of flickering and cool breeze waving into light shift memory magic and alternate worlds wrapped in guilted torch supremacy.
Where is the waiting? Where are the stilted stakes on which a breathless betrayal grows roots? Were it not for places to roam there would barely ever be distance measured or time put forth to explain the alarmity of our actions.
The placid enmity released into a wild and frenzied scream of panic. The buzzing of birds wore into a passion of weekend after work salvation. The feeling of fever, the sadness in a noise, the vileness of weak massacred apathy in a chorus retained deep within scourged remains.
But wait.. There’s magic there? A world remote in afterthought but rich in a loving flight of fabled joy. Tales of folks not so much aching but restless energy and curiosity contained in every simple question. A world so worked up, woken up to light forever in its destiny. Uncontrolled by common voices, sailboats or its fears, a world awoken by the richness of its every lasting youthful years.