Undelivered

undelivered I dont know where it begins but I do know that love weaves in It is sometimes secret Often like a cheeky mouse Often an unwanted louse It is secret Secrets are great so long as you hold to the truth # And sacrilege is drawn on our fields And our hills And our fountains that speak the global riot of nigh is the strength of the beacon that rises within within within and numb to the fragrance of the rose then? Idolising an indifference Interference Woe #Do not succumb to a beat box bud Instead be a vibrance in a time of tune An time of tune is needed and necessary in a tome of self but a tome of self is often solitary solitary like the spider spinning his web