Ambers of light pierce the sullen shade within the cabin's walls.
Glorious sunshine pounds the chariot's shell-
As the sky does stroke the fragile frame-
No more be said of such affairs
For if eyes were to stray too far
Illusions might ignite an incessant stream of whispers,
Growing to a bustling sea-
-The Russian lovers
Inhabiting those fertile soils of rich blue specters and green strokes-
Lift their eyes to the sky-
Their souls yearn to breathe,
And thus enrapture one in ecstatic glimpses of euphoria...
Now, it's not their tender loving eyes,
But gentle curves that damage most,
And as one is always a companion of two,
So is the star-crossed lover,
Accompanied by the fairest maiden-
Forever an angel in any drunkard's eyes-
And famished are those who demand those lips a feast,
For those nooks and crannies,
Amidst the honeydew scent that rose-
Emits... -is effervescent,
And as bold as potent ecstasy might strike,
The thunderous cumulus nimbus is thrice as swift,
But the heart mustn't stir,
For if steadfast through the frigid blast,
Gates to paradise will unveal-
Memory awakens vivid recollections of such passage,
But the algeal coat in my ocean grows thick,
And the vast blue sphere that wraps me in its tender arms
Now points me in a different path.

History is meant to be a lesson well administered so that repetition is for naught,
Else non-abiding redundancies,
Might chase the chastity of time,
And leave prudent thoughts assailed
By the iterating prongs-
If raped, the paper lies, by the wicked, stinging, wisps-
Then hope, like ether, be- intangible
A mere illusion to behold,
For the mortal world lies helplessly,
A sail without a wind,
Let us then prevent catastrophe,
Push away our lives-
Seek a prudent rupture
From the spokes of time, itself,
And dictate tomorrow's 'morrow,
With no notions of today...
And thus burn the lusty strings
That puppeteer erect,
So as to leave our destiny
In the hands of mortal soul-