Forest Wildren

Oily sky, weightless portals of slipstream bubbles in a fluid - superhighway of a different means. Effortless, my travel, everywhere at once, like a cat after a string. A scattergory of movement in instant summation. Summoned by the reading of uncategorized belief. Where what is possible is aspired to will, like "Tom Sawyer" in a Rush song. Looking for that Sprite of Strange Wings under moonlit skies. She will evade me no longer in her Black Mamba mean streaks of hide and seek. She has singled me out to double since before the beginning of Time and this pervading trouble she holds aloft. I feel like ten feet thick lead, laden with the now, and quickened like an inertial flow in which we trough. In her presents - she is leading with carrot to know, for sure, That I will love her forever. Then, she will show, her smile reuknighted to my soul's oath of capture.