Image of Almighty

Amalgamate the fearful misconstruction soothing gossip which has scattered all, resorting in the kind that disappears, returning once again when eyes are closed. I tremble more when calmed by reassurance, disturbed by what some say they cannot help, stopped in tracks by wholesome misconstrued, They tell me that it's just a shooting star. How then, when night arrives I ask myself, that daylight seems to keep it all at bay? Dread the dusk while dawn is still withdrawn, adds time enough while trails of dust arrange. I squint to strain my eyes on nothing else, Combined with Old Moore’s Almanac’s request resurgence of a kind, that storms may brew believe in him, who died so long ago. - The thunders clap as tempests re-emerge, convinced by Moore that nature most revered illusion, for a namesake, found like 'God' and did you know just what this image was? A battle which unites not good or bad, No remedy shall cure, believing them to be these Satan bugs which brought a curse, of something horrid, like those asteroids. I mean, that was some twenty years ago, a little boy who's frightened of the dark remembers then what fury was by gaslight flicker first.., combustion puts it out. Those days of nothing had, was nothing lost, we hadn't gained a lot when smoke had plumed, from chimney pots, was still not reassured that one day, such a spiral shall be soon A memory that no-one wants to know.