Commissioners

Nigh fusions are a happenance I prefer the stalks shadows of the day Infinity has a way of peering tomorrows living for a thrill Who light the leitmotif and bonfire my words Or should I search for an island to gaze at a cave? Wherewithals all lustre scratch holes in my words A house without a dream ran naked through the plains Romeo is lost Juliet leans closer Spinoza doffs another theorem Nature plays trumps commissions bleed into tweed