A child was loved in shapes.
Each parent was hanging on this branch made of wood.
The wood departed out of seed, the seed departed out of earth.
Our blue marble rolled with sunsets.
Great expanse of power filled the surface until it leaked of passing reflections.
Strange ghosts blocked every bridge and all roads combined in barriers.
Light drowned upon revolutions between void and space.
Within a black hole arrived the pressure to be released in blasts.
Folds covered the weight among dimensional spades in hazardous start.
Breaths exhausted air, wind leveled us in radiance of sight.
Dreams burned along the quiet instinct in gear for oncoming voices.
Honey poured in a comb and became imagined with hair.
Unique visions justified disease at our unanswered call for the wild.
Ponies would talk in less-than-official vocabulary.