Nothingness

The geminy they were, heresy to have, their love. . . A lifter stand to why we reckon? As corse sodden as the golden maiden of Spain. Nothingness. The thieves, though they frighten, A veniable abandonment. It meant nothing, Key lime pie, warm apple butter, love and its creation. . . and its muster. A nonage of retired conceit. Beauty. . . what is beauty these days. And for whom to cherish? For the daring, its crusade. Enchanting the epic of time, a mythological revelry. Poetry that will open the periapts of wisdom, intellect, and charisma. . . are like portents of man. El Dorado. My conclusion. . . As Jesus ascended to the heavens, dying for our untimely sins, retribution, virtue, and the essence of God. Portrayed as galliantly as phosphorescent treasure. His love, his being, his conception and sacrifice for our brotherhood of man, to cherish and embody for eons. Throughout spent lifetimes of shared rumination, rebirth, annointment, and the essence of the divine. Here to now, everafter!