The wings are vibrant blue and black. There is silence in flight, but not nonviolence. Being in the air, means they do not care about all of you. Maybe you land on my pink shoe, butterfly. The Chinese will try to claim you, and blame you, but they cannot travel abroad with the lack of esteem for ultimate authority. I sing you a gentle "Jesus Loves Me" and we play telepathically for days into a millinium that no other can see.
No comments:
Post a Comment