Conveyed, by the traditional beginning, was a day (rescued, reserved) in exclusion of all the normal souls in the business district. At night, the tank seemed deserted by all those fish who gathered to make a public statement that caught the spirit of the glowing images which slowly transformed except in the steep period of grace, where glances revealed the acting and the stretch, unfortunate, bringing minds along, no matter how diverting the intention was, as it attempted to alter determination and make, in its own reflection, a smaller version. It needed a shorter sentence. Expensive seasons harvested the year, accepted by the customers wearing their ghostly masks and showing original character in the basic natures of exceptional creativity, hidden faces. Sideways in the magazine, as it chimed, the great bell vibrated to rattle the (silk, liberty) of a limited print, not popular but aware. A deadly feeling crashed into the news unrelated to the ancient rulers or the distances they measured. Only a thought could be demonstrated for each figure in the parade; it remained uncertain, where gone, where to return. They waited. It was not possible to worship the festival with its candy, but the truth had grim straits, in it, traversed by the logic of telling stories not found present therefore impossible to verify. Threats were intended to extract a quality of compliance, yet they alerted the defiant to an emerging problem, the imposition of impractical will. While the rules changed, it seemed to be unclear which principles had to be asserted or modified to introduce a new order of behavior in public. All, who were standing, expected to be answered with safety as the shore was creeping to their feet, a lunar tide from the editorials of endless controversy. Encouragement seemed to offer anonymity or, at least, the obscurity that necessitated a change of names, a relocation. Uneasy thoughts pointed to a simple fact that retreats depended upon the force of balanced action. The strike of the celebration aimed its witches and skeletons without a trial to verify or disprove the fate of accusation, and the remedy did not apply for those who pondered such things as fate or chance. It was important to remember superior results.
Buried in this is a comment on the importance of honesty and accuracy, not colored by the imaginings of how it would be if wishes were concrete. All is perception according to honest opinion. When opinions are no longer aligned with honesty then all is lost. Uncertainty in all things breeds an odor of discontent. The emporer has no pants you know. Bob
Each person is but a grain of sand resting beside the sea. This thought sets the tone for Jill Eisnaugle’s latest poetry collection, Beside Still Waters.