The sun shines and yet the gentle drops of rain drop on my head. I continue to debrief and find the rhythem of funk in the vicinity. I believe in the gentle and free in your divinity. Butterflies stay at bay, but a little birdie says hello and starts to merge with the gutter. How can everything around be so full of a paisley pattern that I wish not to see? It can be a friend who lights a flame and starts the carnal activity of wolves in the night. I can feel what is real, and things are starting to go past sentiment in the petrie dish I exist in. True emotion may begin this week and your smile is all I need to take a moments rest in the shade before I begin my work on the chain gang again.
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