Waves caress the foamed shore below. Resonating ultrasonic through the cliffs of their sound. The sun's shine is poured all around, drying the leaves and such. There is something about here, and it does me good. Where we have color, eyes and movement, where sound is understood. We have living respiration, a breath echo vibration. Solid sun inspiration and ground where forebears stood. Here I am going, and here I will stay. I have a body to do my moving, to find my home wood. I am here to see tomorrow. I am here to breathe today. there is a rust nailed floor boarded with ancient oak wooden planks that rock and creak. Words eye. Singularity. You did not sing and I would not dream.
You are the shade breeze. You are the shade. You are the shade breeze blowing. The movers of the stream. Words eye. Stops breath withholding the heart within its rib cage and it stops for a moment. Waves caress the foamed shore below, resonating ultrasonic through the cliffs of their sound. I was hoping that you would make it, and I'm happy that you could. I was hoping that you would make it. I am happy that you could. And I will see you again.