That was when rocking impossible. When it was something allowed human, and aloud tho of falling. It is almost holding the elbow of, or honest after kindness. Or not just a zone or treatment. It is a small, a landscape familiar to describing landscape. And the human people recognize the impossible rock. Volcanoes can’t be urgently and human to, and neither can you. Verbs were meant to go faster, like helping hands. Nouns were meant to install that place of being, one hand at a time. It isn’t such a tough road, rutted like nuance. Change lacks fastidiousness, often appealing to death. The approach of help seems fathomable, as far as fathoms seem. It is seen or just seemed, like across a border known for skeptical advances. Undue isolation for status, inquiry, and riposte remains as drag on the arm being held. Being in this together is part of being apart.
It begins with a scanning of light, a settlement of words. The lightly fracture of Bird sound begins in the office of seeing. Not sentiment but sense, as cool as Green in the Early days. Pasture resists nonpasture, no one Refers to none. All remains including nothing. Morning Is belief and there simply there. Tides go freshly to the point.
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