Imagine some
big clerical of
some unex
plained god
head fiddle
some mighty
catch And
in awe
of that
somewhat.
Deities stand a vision of believable legs and friable purpose. Scan any trouble and fleet voice from specific clouds with ornery transparency springs towards opulence. Notable tree deploys to the middle of thinking of grass in a minute while sly bird of dawn voice pretends package of mystery. Deities argue with precise fruit, blossoming fields, even brown discouragement over years that never start. Agency only flies to particulars. Heroes have names and open questions but whirl as turbines in rare registers. Poems lack shades of even that but try bracing volcano while looking at the ceiling. The gods hate the feeling of somewhat.
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