We test our dress, the dayly doning of our mating plumage, rings, and all things that shine, upon our bodies we seldom give thought, all things seen through our eye's, all things we leave to our minds, what is love? sacrafice!?, it is all it's ever been, an evading force on an objective test of faith, die, live, die in and order unchangeable, no ability to percieve an altered course while still in the moment of self, sad and arrogant of each and all of us, sacrafice is to give, help all things good, the hard part is finding one that would, we should not be surprized, when we findly realize our course, harsh image of vanity, cold alone monents of clearity, that as we age become more frequent, millions before, now, and those that come to our door, feel, and desire all, and if obtained, nothing more, sacrafice, sacrafice, and "Teach your children well" but unchangable, inevitable continuance of redundant self, dreams of death beds surrounded by what you believe to be loved ones, each crow with their eye fixed on the closest shiney object to claim when no ones looking, a shame through the years of all that follow in your name. I chose love, but sacrafice obstains me from achieving all I ask of life, I call upon love, and all answers I find, I find weak, and decieving...... Devon Knight ~
Really liked this..stirred up some rather odd feelings though. I believe we all get what we honestly bring to the table and maybe not in the guise that is easily recognizable.
Straight forward,.. Death, an inevitable entity, touched only once...... Devon ~ Thank you for your time to read and reply E/H.
