Monday, January 5, 2015

Dancing For The Raining Tears Made Try Soaked



The skill of any sole replies with print, a foot tack after the cell to ankle weight blow.  Thus travel energetic lifts silt from the filter enlivening bounce to skip through the anchor.  The stall of pound of system halts, to acquire Barn technique I have grown with the horse as a mentor of life.  This has produced the understanding and basic principle to develop the comprehension to the process of work.

In the years of many that have passed from taxing on the mind in what did shock me to death, I have gained patience to task the memories one breath at a time.  Piece work in construction has brought forward a regard for a healthy approach not the stink of rotting fish.  A balanced mention to the days of thunder in a light of walking, the sweats that lathered the thoughts with horror have been the and/or 'spice trades'.  Life is a court of drawn lines that once crossed to the x, y, z, 1, 2, 3 of what had become a daily routine.  From the bowels of the basement to the singing of a choir I have discovered it is the journey of the task itself that shouted.  Repeatedly hammered by what seemed prearranged for the disaster to take face it has been a requirement to allow the process a path for completion.

Relief from these hard core bearings came on the road that took my letters to the voice of silent to march the talk with character of correct measure.  In tunnel blindness my awareness reined determination of focus to not strain the age of birth to the involvement of what ultimately matters in speaking.  Truth is a compass that magnifies a map to the clarity of chowder, an oyster soup with potatoes and clams, secrets, pearls, muscle and land.  The shoreline view is a window with a cause to bring the lives that have been lost to the forefront so that their burial may know peace while afoot.  Treating with great care to my outcome is of a slow comb, to not tear apart the breaks but to show that being so broken had a shattering effect to those lost years.

In todays virtue of a classic burial of swept under the carpet for the flooring of sake, it still wore on my being with great hate being felt by each passing player that bumped their nose to my strife.   I bundled myself up in a curling, for the ice was burning me hot, nothing melting, just words finding the fringe and expression by the introduction of riddles.

A call to arms in the or, on the Front of a war that had battled through to not just survive, but to find sustenance in the life of love and compassion that had not been given nor known.  A defining of reality to the text of prose is the coming of the ages in and on the tack of my shoulders to the carriage of discipline.  The control of gears that shift to echo a stride of the ghost that once was a girl that had dreamed of all the treasures that Fairy Tales sheet.  In grasping humanity and the fact that Fairy Tales are nice stories but issue false hope I discovered the sake for such ribbons.  So, I tied a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree, remembered the better of dreams and put to plate the horror.  In a free written concept there were so many wonders that exampled how idea's have been passed in our history.  The by the ways, or the misses, or the hour of completes, but in this it was the flowers that I repeatedly saw die.  Spring brought hope for the bulb and sure enough up from that root a beautiful summer to enjoy the warmth of the sun along with the outdoor ventures.  Hope of the season is not necessary until the Season itself begins a drastic change.  As the weather is exampling the storms that have never been on record, yet are bringing such desperate arrangement to our lives.

Watching as to be prepared for the coming challenges I took time to slow my own self down, for it was every turn that brought yet another flash of a gun firing memory into my ready now.  The oddness of such became draining and I had to find a tempo in stride as I had seen in my past what happened to overwhelmed lives.  I believe that most do not understand that ridding yourself of treacherous horror is and does happen by making new memories with bright factors as the basis.  Yet as the sudden punches of people and their mouths appeal to drag you down memory lane one cannot help the mind in recounting the detail.  As the allowance of task with myself, I remind myself, that the reminded in and of itself, is a flag showing me that this particular situation is coming to close.  The sharp cuts I do not fear as what has been done, has indeed happened, for this I must accept and now realize that my reminder is one of caution.  A kind of early warning system that kicks you, to bring your attention to the detail of the immediate surroundings so you are not subject to being terrorized or horridly damaged yet again.

With dreams that come in my sleep I have grown to understand the fashion of the thought to finish the worry that may plague my unconscious mind more than I have braved.  As my dreams are certainly extremely different than more than a few years ago, I am so grateful for the working of the explanation on how to comprehend these buried thoughts.  More directly delivering to the face value, the happenings and interactions of that particular day find a court of reason to express or exclaim action by safe production to absorb without threats.  In sleep I have found the solutions have the silver screen effect, still bringing intensity, but also bringing comprehension to a type of settlement that relaxes me for the first time in a long time.  So instead of a festering wound that boils from seeping pus, I am able to touch the worth with a dynamic introduction to a bettering of clause.