Its Form

Its Form The taste the feel the body of a thing it gives strength, life order puts it in a special category. What emanates, the cement that forms, defines and gives it a special place the soul, not the body, it's inside. The light of it compels to stand along this is what gives it pride and a personality of its own. Its unique DNA, the taste, smell, impression the very core the warmness, the coldness. What draws or pushes away the night and day of it, what it speaks, the story it tells. What gives it distinction, sets it aside gives hope as forward it strides not overpowering, just enough. The first brush stroke on a canvas the faint vanilla taste in ice cream when licked from a cone The light veil of scent that lingers from expensive perfume, when all else is gone. This is the essence of a thing.