Illusions in ShadowThe evolution of divine amusements and ancestry defined in calling flocks of dark flight, in silhouettes done gray, flittering by the cloak of a shaded crescent moon, the wind cried welcome borne errant by the suns sleeping conference, with the edges of a frayed twilight and a blood red dawn. Strange, near presumptions in velvet evanescence, by the bond of night and day, a jealous idea stealing a dream of tomorrow. With an illusion of flame and starlight, of ashen embers and velvet blankets sheltering the boughs of oaken cradles and blossoms nocturnal, a primal desire in darkness, secret. An illusion bought sure by the promise of a tear tasting sweetly of loves affinity for devotions in times passing essence.
The souls of passionate gods and exotic dares of contention, the rare wine adorned in the dew of a shadow hidden in the midst of darkness and illusion. An hourglass turned sideways almost ending the breath of a silent whisper with the dare of a seconds pause all in illusion, the sweetest illusion of immortality and the distance between here and there, the measure of what we hold in a moments rest and the advent of another dream.