there’s a place in this world where i would go if ever i needed the life, to be restored to my inner soul i would run a thousand miles, i would go to the place. something i jinxed from far away, a place to go i’d never know, somewhere i would run if i had to, feeling the least bit sorry i’d never know the truth. lush forest and luxurious valley spread with the mountains, profligate scenery yet abundant to silence. a bestow of water yet after the rain, lavishly butterflied unhappily forlorn to the knowledge that life would be everlasting. dreamer, folly and obscure, a sibyl with the most life-filled and heartwarming tale, who would, mite be i. i hearsay pour my heart out to the world, in a misty anecdote of showered rain. perfectly mesmerised by sweet, sweet pure negligent essence, running across the plain and desert wondering and hoping, nothing may i ask for through death or life, will i ever think in a different way, restore me dear life give me your power. looking around like a lost ghost, help i long for part two of the seraph light. ice glowing through water in no ones presence, there’s sometimes a sonata, i hear it play softly music to my ears. moods so sylphlike, warm hearted and hard stone, killing the air like innocent oblivion. i want to run away, can’t run away from myself, though i fear, fears that i dream like insanity, vividly dreaming of an immortal absence to the thought. snow falls like lemon drops sour yet sweet, papyrus reeds still in water fish like jewels on its surface. love is a many splendor thing, it hurts on the inside, emotions burned in eternal flame. friendships and hardships turned away from reality, but this is the world we live in, we can’t really change if we don’t learn to share, sorry can be one word hard to say but makes things right. it isn’t enough to say, meaning plays its role whether fate comes in or not, icy stars fall from blackness. proverbs psalms and beautiful prayers, lonesome heartfelt sinful gem, happiness lives yet morally does occasionally hurts the loving soul. duck soup a cure, pretty prissy perfect and lifeless, a broken soliloquy, dilatory through nowhere the place i go like a shire empty rippling oceans, pebble stone and waterfall, calm to the rose. the past is beautiful but the future is what lies a dead cadaver in snow. beauty of whatever kind in its supreme development invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears. dark night and embrace, delight to the soul, a beautiful sense, so far away from the beginning the start of time. heaven can hold yet hardly enough, restored me to death sent me to life, and held me until spirit came down and remained. amity so cynical, an optimist amiable, everyone free to dream big or small, dreams will take you somewhere terrible and ferrible. a butterfly lives to its own extent, we can’t learn to live like much gist, a misty sea of blue sent away at the shore, let go of the chance to be restored. life and sagacity mix but don’t form to a one and only magnificence. paradise is like a geode, lovely of plain beauty, paradise sends those who dream to see true, but false can’t die, world cannot perfect, we only see a delusion a clear crystal, view of a most fruitless vision. though half deplora eucalypta and sunflower, dandelion to yellow rose. a time when peace speaks, when orchids grow on one-storey house walls, when the rain falls like crystal tears. a story of something new, the beauty of something gone, seconds of delusional misery, minutes of deathly silence, hours of lonely vengeance, pass quickly by. a fallacy is the dream we once always had, of a perfect place yet a mirage to enter the jaded world of unknown lies indefinite as a hallucination. i had no life, i never restored, it was simply a dream where life was gone and death was suffered. i ran to the place forever forgotten, but the life i longed for, the spirit to restore my inner soul was no more. all my life i had been living a delusion that was affected by serendipity.