With In
Intrically woven words, with the proper nouns and verbs they take flight as if they were birds. My mind searches the sky, looking to the sun and the moon, Gods gifts, to guide me. With a spirit that moves with the heavens, I paint tapistries as a painter on to a mental canvas. Picaso of the pen, when I begin the end is infinite, crossing time and space, subjecting, projecting my visions.As the seasons come and go and the earth continues to roll, so does the scriptures that make my manuscripts. These lines are windows to my soul.
Exposing the bare essence of an individual attempting to leave a presence so profound that one could search the universe, the galaxy and to no avail never
another me.
In all my greatness and all my flaws, my poetry stands alone, seperating them all. With each letter I stretch, extend myself to define the character
WITH IN.
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