8_dancing_fools

The golden grass absorbs the winds tranquil sutra whispers in ecstasy. A timeless eternal oak lends its handless embrace frozen languid in the sky. Scared in our sight blinded by the bark an ancient mans portal into the pure frictionless flow has abandon sights windowless cathedral. The man has left no path to natures humming monument of solitude besides the vagabond thoughts enclosed in the ambers of her eyes.

When are we going to realize that transitions are tasteless when all hands are fused?

Scattered I know, as always.
Thank you Kerouac for your classy craft