Purple silhouettes.
Shadow puppets leave
Black reflections upon the ceilings of this den.
Moon walking across the bridges of an unknown fate.
The ridges of uncertainty certainly leave us on edge like box cutters. Undfolding the ends we erect to the possibility of prosperity. With every milestone there is a boardwalk to landscapes that relieve stress momentarily. With every island there is the silence of isolation. With every sunset of the horizon the Sun's colored in gradition. And although it is untouchable astronauts fly at a distance to obtain gratification. Sometimes what we see shouldn't be touched. Sometimes we dream but not big enough. Sometimes we lust when we should love. And lighting bolts remind us. That opportunity may only come once. So if the shooting stars align.let the streaks leave us in exasperation until we identify, ourselves. Until we identify. Ourselves.