Pilgrim's Progress

Pilgrims Progress We need great golden copulations in the cemetery bury your head beneath the limbs in part of a ghostly resolve perhaps this was the path Brother Lawrence tred alone underneath the interpass of denial of speculation we have nursed path each quatrum with a deafening blow to stand in one accord to each other as pilgrims rest after harvest time Apple butter jam spread on fresh home made bread the reflections of a timid squirrel on a limb we have become immeasurable by your smile she danced in a ring of fire yet throws of each challenge with a shrug the cost of the pilgrims progress we shall never know bust up the beat to promote its tempo a beacon of light to a much hurting world in search of love Does death hurt you the most or is it fear beneath the timeless swell I live to tell sought through the variation to its cosmic flame