Scenery psychic poetry —— sight one

Sight one The light illuminated, in a shallow room, it is slight gloomy, with old feelings and sour wound. However it never give too strong impulse towards one’s agonies but manifested as an interesting sensation, that is slight harassed with daily dreaming but owed slightly towards the power of the invisible. Suddenly poetry cometh without sounded mind: Cometh as the poetry The old bell never sounded, The grave still with vine yard. The whisperers from the afar, The feeling is empathy. No one knows where it has comth As symbols it never denoteth. AS the word changes, the side turning table. It is deep feelings with the game play. The game that plays deny the lies, the deep feeling vomits the wound of the heart. There seems likely never existed any cure, But it comes with enlightenment. It foretells neigh the fate or fortune But it gave a hand to your goings. Neither did it role play too far As the burdens one’s laying As the secret he might ignite. What may come? What might come? The weight of the Libras, The edge of the universe. The turning tables, The lover, the wonder and the haters Exited none of such emitting. Who may come? Who might come? The brother of Geminis The day and the night. From the beginning to the ending The true, the lies and the traitors, Receive the love that forever igniting The ache of the price, The worries of the betrayal, Nothing real under such illuminating. Due to its glory, or the jealous of the your little ego, Who may count it? Who might count it? The price that counted, is it a debt or a fulfillment? The debt spreads no real The fulfillment provoke no will The real is forever debiting of the glory The will is forever originating of the grace. Fulfillment with our intention is the glow of the actors. Actors, actors, in whom thou doth without purpose, The count is in itself, from the beginning and the ending. The actors are the arrows of the stepping fire, It is always debiting and good willed from the grace, It aims never himself, but between the counting and the counted. Hence, alas, the virtue of the actors, the virtue of the actors.