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Itching for words
Beauty is a thought in motion,
Beauty is a restfull stare,
Beauty is the lust for emotion.
Every step taken, makes for a moving process.
Every sitting, aids to settle and confine.
This vibration carries with it the right signs.
Profetic minds collapse with time.
Their thoughts unfold and behold much after death.
Those generations evolve through invisible creations,
they are unseen, but can be percieved.
Profectic minds are gifted but burdened like Macbeth.
Life is but a wonder.
To some it remains somber, yet to others the lust of wonder.
Very few can maintain bliss at constanty:
The minds that roam prisioners of king love's sovereingty.
Will never with them cary an ich for a grain of mundane.
