Cradle of Grace
Time is vainly hard and progressively important its sought out for vile promises that you can only hold bearing with mirrored confusion and resistance, while you are restrained with common hatred you seek freedom in the imprisoning illusions of grandeur.
Oh were can it be held for what it is, for its not dreamed up from cautionary tales of great winds or unexpected fallen angles, they form a virtuous piercing tone with a callused wing and prismed eyes, they sing of past transgressions while they cry for no one.
It must be from a real magic, magic that can't be found in the ancient caverns, caverns now filled with disease, defeat and endless procrastination.
It must be made from the hearts of wise beings that confront pain in a manner of malevolent awe and a forgiving reach that's played out on a stage of vine cradled grace.
This content reflects the personal opinions of the author. It is accurate and true to the best of the author’s knowledge and should not be substituted for impartial fact or advice in legal, political, or personal matters.
© 2010 journyman