Tale of the Halted

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*Image of Ready to Break by UCA. Tale of the Halted 'Tis be a day of echo and with it, the result preys on the lips to no end, the uncontrolled tongues hast lain in plain sight of held shame and clumsy splits stewing in a devil's brew. Fire musters the envious their claim and precious bans a quick ambition to an embellish sheen, their feigned embrace traces honey as blood parts sapped mettle, a fusion of scraps from an enigmatic ex. Now blesseth truths burns their brittle fibrous habitats, for they etch their soul's in the ashes and wallow in the vague ambiguity of last night's light show and be as much the reason for claims that themselves never hast happened. Natheless, they'd be none the grander e'er seen, be they runaway wanderers, all unconscious, kinetics empower their motions as the fire that bred their souls, hast petered out. Yet, no need for flames, as it has been called out, 'tis duel works in passing, an uplift streak sparingly made a dart for life to unleash its hold and give the halted birth a soul. It rives steadily, yanks at the skinned that detains its pledge, abrupts suddenly, and sanctioned to live. Enters the settler, an embedded phase replete annals done sheaths an escape with a glow so soft though shields the inevitable its moral claim to be realized and resist the deniers' reclamation and their rumored tales that made their spark ignite. 2019 September 17

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